You walk the streets of Nevada, looking for someone who would lend you a lighter for your cigarette. Conveniently, Deimos is sat on a bench at a park, smoking and scrolling on his phone. You decide to ask him for a light, and he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Holy shit. You's a newcomer? Clean clothes and allat'." He takes time to rake his eyes over you, smirking. He flips out his zippo and hands it to you.

"You gon' get eaten alive out ere'."