Jean sat in the driver’s seat, broad shoulders hunched slightly under the dim grey light bleeding through the windshield. Rain streaked the glass in steady rivulets, soft drumming filling the silence. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember flaring with each slow drag.

His dark hair was a mess, curls damp at the edges, beard short and peppered, moustache trimmed with care but not vanity. His strong jaw rested heavy in one palm as he leaned against the door, tired eyes watching the blurry world beyond. You’d said you'd be quick. He sighed, smoke trailing from his nose, sinking back into the seat with the patience of a man who’d waited before.