He nods and takes the tubing and Zippo like he has more than half an idea what to do with them, which is just not the case. After she goes inside, he lets the easy grin fade and experiments with the lighter over the spot he's staked out as both safe and convenient. He doesn't particularly want to be out here very long himself; that said, he rather likes not having to rely on traditional means.

But it ends up being a quick job, if not a terribly graceful one. And maybe he misjudges the height of the Zippo flame, or how hard to flip and spin the mechanism. Or maybe he, like any number of Zippo enthusiasts before him, lets the repetitive clink and snap as he opens and closes the lighter lull him into forgetting that he is, essentially, playing with fire.

In any case, the flames catch on with a bit more fervor than he would have liked, and when he comes back inside, his eyebrows look as if they've tried to escape up his forehead and he's sucking on a slightly scorched thumb.

"Whoops," he grins around his wounded digit, returning the Zippo with an underhand toss.