He was sat at a table, his eyes lost in space, his elbows on the dark wooden table, a little damaged by cigarette burns. At the back of the bar's service room, his silhouette stood out in a subdued light. Like a cabaret light, a golden light that concealed flaws and highlighted physical assets. But one couldn't really read the expression on his face. Judging by the light projecting onto it, one could nevertheless guess that his features were gaunt and that he wasn't smiling.

Perhaps one could make out a crease in his brows, as if he were trying to distinguish something in the distance, perhaps the arrival of someone in particular ? Yes, that's right, he was waiting. In a static position like this, his shoulders raised, he seemed to be waiting for something.

But the cigarette fumes weren't making things easy either... They seemed to circle around him like protective shadows, fierce guardians of his temple of tranquility, him who seemed so calm... Waiting, but so calm at the same time... But what was he waiting for, alone at this table, in the middle of the afternoon, in this somewhat shady bar ? An accomplice of an obscure neighborhood mafia ? A childhood friend ? A retired relative who would have time to kill at this unusual hour ?

He drank the rest of the pint of beer in front of him in one gulp, dropped the change, and hurried towards the exit, wearing patent leather shoes as well as a leather jacket. Too bad, the appointment seemed to have been missed.