Post by Icarius on Oct 13, 2009 20:47:27 GMT
He sits quietly, not making a move, leaving most the room unsure of whether or not he's actually breathing. He shifts, a small fire illuminates the bleary features of a tired, weary man. He lights the tip of his cigarette then closes his lighter with a practiced flick. The stranger takes a slow drag of his smoke, then blows it out his nostrils as he exhales.
"Hell... it's about time."
"Hell... it's about time."
