Michael sat at the window of his establishment, an old run down looking office, and the door leading to the office was glass, with the name of his business written clearly in the middle, even managing to draw some attention despite the less than appealing surroundings. The office though clearly looked like someone had tried to clean the place up and maneuver the desks, cabinets and chairs around to be more pleasing to the eye, but gave up halfway through. He was smoking the cheapest kind of cigarettes money can buy, and ended up covering the room in a thin layer of smoke. His coat sat flung over one of the seats across from him, and fedora tossed lazily by the door. The streaks of light actually managing to make it through the drawn curtains, consisted of the only light in the room and cloaked him in shadows, his silhouette barely visible in the room, and the lit cigarette the only thing giving away there was somebody actually there.