Sparkling motes of dissipating arcane energy flit about his man, smolderinghis overcoat and circling wildly about him.  He frantically pats out his shoulder and grins, revealing perfect white teeth and glancing about to see if anyone nearby was singed. With a final stomp on the last dazzling ember, curiously, the tall well built, seasond man finally collects himself and looks about, standing quietly and taking in his surroundings.He pulls out a purple silk pouch of "Perfectly Legal" and begins rolling a cigarette.  With a flash from his palm,  he ignites the ciggy with a flourish.   Beautiful, purple tinged and pungent vapors wreathhis head and shoulders.  His eyes briefly settle on you.