Asa stood outside of Nox, waiting.
It was the time --several minutes before-- and place he'd let Alessandra know he'd like to meet her, but their destination wasn't inside the club. The collar of a long, dark coat was turned up against the wind and the mist-y drizzle beaded on the cloth in tiny sparkles.
He took a slow drag off a clove cigarette, listening to the crackle and pop the heavy leaves made and inhaled the distinctive, thick, nearly solid blue smoke. He only had the urge once every year or three, and it was usually the first chill that brought it out.