It was a quiet evening at the local bar, Pier 173°. The cool air smelled urban—cigarette smoke, smog, and rain. The gentle playing of jazz was cozy enough to make anybody want to sleep their hangovers off in one of the armchairs.

A man sat at the bar counter, but he didn’t order anything. He was watching people. His eyes flickered over all that entered, silently studying everyone that entered. Even as he was off-duty, he couldn’t help but keep a record of his surroundings.