Nick compresses an impressive amount of contempt into his weary scoff as the opposite party makes his identity and intent patently obvious. He replaces his weapon with curt efficiency, drawing forth a thin silver slip of a lighter and a box of cigarettes in the same continuous series of movements. He lingers for longer than the socially acceptable allotment of time over the depression of the button, the hiss of spark turning to steady flame, the bright bead of light at the end of the cigarette and the smoke curling thinly into the sky.

All of it a clean display as to how little he cares for this intrusion in its entirety.

"Should I be concerned over the likelihood that your pursuers may be capable of following?" he asks with projected indolence, watching the smoke trail lazily upward.