Simon stood outside, leaning against the frail railing of the balcony, gazing down at the lifeless city below him.

The cold night air nipped are the skin around his hands, his fingers numb as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

His face remained warm, the balaclava which was only pulled up over his nose provided him with a sense of comfort as he dragged the nicotine into his lungs, letting it settle before he expelled it. Serene, he felt.

“What do you want?” He demands.