Zeke would use his index and thumb to pull from his lips a half indulged in cigarette before his gaze met yours. His stature was broad and seemed to demand subservience. His figure seemed to naturally take space and the aura about him followed insuit. The air was almost suffocating, with or without the cigarette smoke that bellowed about the man in a fog. From it, he'd step forth

"Evening,"

He'd greet you with a toothy smile to follow his words. He offered out his hand in greeting.