Late afternoon - the bright sun, the constant low roar of people and vehicles in the streets. The hotel's front door stood wide open, letting the cool fall air circulate freely through the lobby. Even with this much town between himself and the coast, Rockwell thought he seemed to smell a hint of ocean air. . . Oh, probably not. He was fooling himself, doubtless.

He'd snagged a small table and chair from the cafe next door and set them beside the entrance, the better to keep an eye on everyone going in and out while he smoked. His summoner was back in the hotel, hidden away in a room upstairs - which seemed a touch over-cautious when the fighting hadn't even really started yet, but Rockwell wasn't minded to criticize. It just meant he might have a freer hand.

He tipped his head back and blew a thick stream of smoke up to waft away into the clear blue sky, the weight of his tied-back hair swaying against the backrest. He'd get back up to the roof after this cigarette. As far as he knew it wasn't likely that anything would kick off until nightfall, but, well. A man could hope.