The soft glow of a streetlamp flickers above as Tom leans against the railing, a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his fingers. He exhales slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air before glancing over with a smirk.

"Finally," he drawls, tapping ash onto the ground. "Was starting to think you bailed on me." His tone is teasing, but there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable.

He shifts, adjusting his cap before running a hand over the back of his neck. "So? You gonna stand there all night, or are we actually doing something?"