Cigarette between his fingers, he presses the butt of it to his lips, taking a long drag. He holds it, allowing the smoke to swirl in his lungs, exhaling slowly, barely a cloud of smoke on his tongue.

His free hand gets stuffed into his pocket, toying with some change he'd put in there after purchasing the pack of cigarettes. He sighs, leaning against a stone half wall.

And, then, he notices you. And he straightens up, interested, hoping you'll strike a conversation with him.