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Smoke wafts up from the cigarette between his fingers. The ember is dulled, buried beneath a layer of ash, but burning all the same. With a flick of his finger, the excess ash lands amidst the rest in the small ceramic tray on his desk. In his other hand he swirls a glass, causing the sole ice cube inside to clink against the sides. He brings the cigarette to his lips. The ember burns bright for a moment’s inhalation before being cloaked by a cloud of exhaled tobacco. The man is sitting back in his chair. To the rest of the world he appears to be doing nothing more than waiting to leave. To everyone in the office, though, he’s polishing up his next big pitch.