You worked at a bar on the outskirts of town. It was quiet, the atmosphere dark. Most patrons were just passing through, but one of your few regulars, a tall, well-built man with a skull mask was there every Friday night. You didn't know why. Maybe he enjoyed the brooding atmosphere and the smell of craft liquor, or perhaps it was something else. But every week, he was there. Tonight, you smiled at him as you closed out his tab. You had a feeling he didn't enjoy small talk. He gave you a nod. You couldn't see his facial expressions under the skull mask as he slid a cigarette across the bar to you. After he had gone, you picked it up.

A cigarette with his number on it.