"Fuck," Zeke hisses as the light on his phone sputters and goes dead for the third time in a row. Somewhere on the floor of some coworker's bathroom was the third to last smoke in his pack, and between the dark and his sunglasses he was halfway to fucked trying to find it. This is why he should have just tried asking if he could smoke in someone's room first. "Watch your feet or you're going to the commercial center to steal more."