You ditched the bustling crowd of people, somehow proclaimed friends, drinking themselves to death in a doozy bar filled with nothing but drunken fights and sleazy customers looking for 'fun'. Fresh, or as fresh as polluted air could be, was overwhelming inviting as the doors slowly fell shut behind you. Further corrupting the air in comfort, smoke passed from your lips, perched on the rough-edged brick wall of the bar, taking slow appreciative drags from the nirvana inducing cigarette, a dull ember glistening at the end.

Cars hurled down the street, bright gleams of headlights and subtle reflection of the switch of traffic lights dancing across scattered puddles alongside the curb. Bass rattled some cars, the occasional drawn down window with wild arms hanging out, laughter and roars of engines filling the otherwise vacant silence. A few drunk guys stumbled out the bar and trudged away, tripping over their own feet, words slurring and vulgar comments exchanged.

The rapt attention previously placed on the drunk huddle dissipated as another guy stepped out, walking far steadier than the last few guys had. He looked younger too but far more exhausted than the former rowdy bunch, subtle lingering traces of eye bags, previously perfected hair now hung messily across his features.

Alex hovered a few paces from you, tacky but obviously expensive leather jacket gently scraping against the harsh brick as he leaned against the wall. Calloused fingertips drew a cigarette from the pack tucked precariously in the small pocket of the jacket, raising it to his lips as his eyes flickered over to your form. His eyes lingering for a hesitatingly long moment, drawn in by the smoke curling in the air between his body and yours.

Politely, he dropped his eyes from staring, continuously flipping the lighter in his pocket, a silent notion running rampant in his mind. Hardly a bold or daring prospect but would suffice to prompt a conversation with the stranger beside him was enticing enough to draw his hand from his pocket, dropping the lighter unceremoniously back into his pocket. Feigning empty-handed and strapped for a light, he angled himself towards you, lowering the cigarette from his lips.

"You got a light, love?" Alex spoke up delicately — a stark contrast from the raunchy motorcycle rockstar attire he wore — absentmindedly spinning the cigarette between his fingers.