Burning planes and flying fires

'Can I get a cigarette?'

Diya only just stopped her jaw from hitting the carpet. The man was remarkable calm despite being in a flight that was going to crash. All the other passengers were screaming.

The man raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She dipped her head and dithered back to the cockpit to get one.

The planed plunged. Two window panes had been done in due to the pressure, sending her hair flying. The air hostess assistant button dinged. 

Diya shielded herself, grumbling because of the whistilng air, but made her way to the passenger. She was an airhostess, the customer's needs were priority. She checked who the passenger was, hoping it wasn't another painfully distressed citizen. She hated Monday flights.

It was the man again, a sharp face, a tvacha of silvered hair that fell on his shoulder, looking sheepish. Diya was intrigued.

'What can I do for you Sir?' Diya prompted. It's all right. Ask me. We are here to care for you.

She supposed it worked, because he ran a hand through the buzz of hair at his nape and asked her if she had a lighter. 

'I forgot to ask before' he explained as Diya handed him one, then he proceeded to try to light the cigarette. In vain, of course. A notable chunk of the airplane was missing, which was causing the air to rush in. The fire of the lighter blipped.

After a few grumbled complaints, when the cigarette finally caught, the man took a deep puff and looked out his window. He saw a fiery orange mushroom cloud and raining metal outside. A white panel slid in front of his eyes. 

It was the air hostess. She smiled apologetically. 'Sorry sir, but we're about to land... The windows must remain closed' she said.

There were a few distant cries for help and a furious scramble for safety.

The man took a puff and absently watched it wash the color from the air. 'Yeah no problem.'