(Vaguely) Open

[john_ofdarkness]

The evening's unseasonably warm, the low, grim clouds folding over the Mansion like a thick quilt. John stands on the porch with his elbows on the rail; the wind cuts through his thin outer shirt on occasion, but for the most part he's comfortable, content.

He has a cigarette in his hand, as comfortably held as though he'd never gone without. Against the failing light, he breathes out smoke.