[ A finger is raised to gain pause from the mortal as the elder slips a hand into his jacket pocket. Indeed, here is a long, thin, silver case. Flicking it open, he offers the other a line of cigarettes. There are no brands of these, and no filter. They've been hand-rolled with skill, pure tobacco.
When he speaks to Luis, it will be in Spanish. An old, earthy dialect, but understandable. ]
A rather unhealthy habit.
[ As he sits over his deep-dish pizza. It's got to be at least an inch thick. ]
Most pleasures are. The universe is most cruel to men, I believe.