[...well. As long as he's comfortable.]

I'm not bad at them. Though I've heard more jokes about huffing and puffing than I've had smokes.

[And given how he's on his third in ten minutes, that should say something.

He puts one hand in his pocket as he moves around the room. It looked almost like a lounge, half collapsed from lack of use. He gives what could have been a low table a wipe, but the dust doesn't even shift, instead grating his palm.

He stands up and looks around again.]

What is this place?