[He shakes his head. Vash is a tall guy in a red waist coat with vine patterns in black along the edges. He turns, tapping the metal fingers of one hand against his lips.]

I don’t and I don’t have any on me.

[A small white owl flutters down and perches on his shoulder. With one foot held up, Vash is presented with a glowing rock. He pauses to take it and thank his feathered friend before he says,]

If you make some Thumos, you can ask them for more cigarettes. Take it you ran out?