The absurdist laid back on his office chair, pondering where the pen he tapped on the desk may scribble out next. Gentle swirls of smoke fused out the cigarette in between his lips.

Noticing your presence, he rolled in his office chair to face you. Five packets of unfiltered Gitaines cluttered the floor under his seat.

"Mm, Bonjour. Didn't expect to see anyone here—what do you need?"