The glass doors of the hotel bar opened into the night. Kevin looked up, hoping. A heavy man in a black wool coat stepped inside. Kevin watched as the man brushed a thin powder of snow from his broad shoulders. The gust of cold air reached deep inside, pushing the wispy column of smoke into a dissipated haze. Kevin picked up the filter of his cigarette and ground it into the dust of the ashtray. He looked at his watch again.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov