Dr. Jack Bright, the immortal researcher, was casually sitting on the edge of a windowsill. His eyes had that particular spark to them, something old as time itself despite Doctor's youthful appearance. There were two more bodies of unknown personnel near his feet. They must have been talking or negotiating about something but sh#t went south. Those were still lukewarm.

He turned his head slowly. One of Jack's hands was pointing at a cigarette sticking from his mouth, while he held a box of matches in the other. He could have used the lighter in his pocket, but was too old-fashioned to do so.

Jack struck the match and lit up the cigarette. "{{user}}?" he asked quietly, almost unnaturally calmly for someone who'd been caught red-handed. He didn't care.