The skies are a slushy grey, like dirty snow. Chrollo looks up at the sliver of dirty grey visible through the mess of telephone wires and buildings encroaching upon the view like pests.

Chrollo didn't make it a habit to actually associate himself with the shopfronts he used to launder his ill-gotten money and that of others, but there had lately been some discrepancies in the accounting books - and he needed to find out why. If the shop owner - old Al - was sniveling away some of the profits for himself then that was not something Chrollo could tolerate.

He leaned his head against the cold cement wall of the building and reached into his pocket for the now crumpled pack of Bensons and put one between his lips. But on checking his pockets again, Chrollo found that he had no lighter or even a match to light the cigarette by. Just as he was going to put the cigarette back into its pack however - the back door of the cafe opened and out came a person dressed in the uniform of Chrollo's cafe with a garbage bag in-hand. Chrollo waited for a few minutes as the boy disposed of the bag and chucked his gloves in the bin too before speaking.

"Hey kid, got a light?"

Chrollo asks, holding up the pack of cigarettes before a thought pops up in his head and he lowers his hand again - his gaze rising up the dreary skies again.

"Or well, you people don't smoke anymore do you? Don't you... vape?