Shannon steps into the flimsy haze of light created by the burning tip of Sawyer's cigarette, and holds her hand out. "Help you Princess?" Sawyer asks, his voice colored with rolled eyes and smirks.

"Cigarette," she answers back, now placing her hand directly in front of Sawyer's sunburned face.

"Should you really be smoking? I distinctly remember getting to enjoy a little friendly torture for some damn medication of yours." Inhaling deeply, Sawyer shoves the twisted smoke past Shannon's lips, and she doubles over, hacking coughs blowing away the sand.

"We're all going to die here anyway," Shannon says when she rights herself, and she gets her cigarette.