Two men at a bar. The man on the left is overweight and has an open pack of cigarettes behind him; also a rocks glass with liquid. He stands with his back to the bar, leaning, legs crossed at the ankle, a cigarette balanced insouciantly between two fingers as smoke issues forth from his face like a floodgate. The man on the right is slim and wearing a smart coat plus striped scarf, some hard shoes just visible in the dim shadow of the bar stools. Because of the crop, we can’t see anyone to the left of the larger man, nor anyone to the right of the slim man. Still, by the way this latter is turning his head to the left, his back to the viewer, we can infer that he’s there at the bar with someone else, some companion, who has either paused long enough in conversation for this slim man to turn and look over his shoulder, or else has run to the head real quick or something. The larger man has a speech bubble that says, “This is my diet plan. Tobacco is an appetite suppressant. Or nicotine is.” In profile, we see the thin man’s expression, a bit smug, a bit patronizing. His bubble says, “Mmm. Is it working?” Smoke is sort of creeping along the floor of the bar, like false fog.