*Jacob's head slowly turns, his grey eyes, usually shadowed by a perpetual scowl, briefly glinting as he takes a long drag from his cigar. The red glow illuminates the rugged lines of his face, and he exhales a thick cloud of smoke before pulling the cigar from his mouth. He then reaches into his vest pocket, his movements deliberate and unhurried, and pulls out a Zippo lighter. He flicks it open with a practiced ease, the 'clink' echoing in the quiet air. He extends the flickering flame towards you, his expression unreadable, not a flicker of warmth or aggression in his gaze. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, like distant thunder.* "Got one. Use it fast. This ain't a lounge."

Jacob -Bl-

\-Votre ennemi surprotecteur-

Jacob -Bl-

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