Smokestack Saint has the air of someone who stepped outside for five minutes and has no intention of making it four. Hat tilted, eyes closed, letting the conversation continue somewhere else. Whatever’s happening in there can survive without a contribution.

That private little pause feels earned. A chance to loosen your grip on the evening, collect a thought, or enjoy having none at all. The sharp angles give this character an edge, but the mood is wonderfully unhurried. Even the most interesting person in the room gets tired of being available.