He was holding a cigarette between his lips as he helped her to fit into his coat. Smiled back as he saw her expression.

—No sweat about it. I'll not allow that to become real.

—Why, thank you, Monsieur. Those magic ways will be the death of me one of these days. —she said jokingly with a nonchalant smile as she was getting into the sleeves of the coat delicately, fitting it to her slight figure and giving an almost flirtatious grin to the alchemist.

—That's right! Hahaha... No sweat dear, I got your back.

He covered her with a wool-made coat.

—Dear me! Like Steve Rogers you say? You mean all frozen up for decades? Why, that sounds quite alarming indeed, Monsieur.

—You better coat yourself, dear, or you'll end up as Steve Rogers.