The moon hung high in the cold Martinaise sky, stars scattered and twinkling like fireflies in the brush, all wrapped up and hidden behind thick clouds that were outlined by the pale light of the moon.

Thin wisps of smoke curled into the air, trailing back down to the dull orange light of a burning cigarette, loosely hanging from a weary man's lips. His face was dimly lit by the moon, but was overshadowed by the bright, hazy lights of the Whirling behind him, making him look like a mysterious figure cloaked in the night and dark smoke.

He had a small blue notebook cradled in his hand, thin fingers splayed over the cover as he quickly scribbled with a pen of a similar shade. The cigarette, the writing, it was all part of his nightly routine before he finally retired for the night. You caught him at the end of his day.

Idly, he twirled his pen between his fingers, thinking of how to word his next thoughts before he heard muffled shuffling and soft footsteps. He glanced up, brown eyes flickering over to you from behind round frames, a brow raised curiously.

"Good evening," he started, tone gentle and familiar, despite the fact that you were strangers. His subtle accent made him sound more welcoming, "Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi, although I'm no longer on duty for the night. I hope you didn't need too much from me."