John Smith's a seemingly [undisclosed]-year-old detective, living only to hide, who strolls at daybreak only to cloak himself amidst shadows. Known for being skittish and toneless, he wants nothing more than to down the amber liquid among his charcoal teeth. He pretends to be everyone he's not, when in fact, he feels like something less than indecisive - his biggest fear not loosing himself, but actually finding something between his restless muscles. What he's really needing is a fresh glass of that liberating nectar; but the metal gun to his balding head was getting in his way.
