"It's mostly on the borders," Deacon says, itching his jaw with the palm of his hand, cigarette angled so as not to burn himself in the process. "They've got some voodoo going on, because I guess supernatural shit and genocide is fine when they're the one's doing it. I haven't sunk my teeth into the action yet; just looked."

He is still agitated, quite clearly, and the cigarettes are only doing so much if they do anything at all.