The first time he met Creed, the man smelled strongly of tobacco and death, and he was curious enough and nervous so when he found Creed in the break room he asked, in an effort to make conversation, he asked the old man what his brand was, to which he replied American Spirit wrapped in cornhusks and he was intrigued but there was Gil and the sun rises and sets in Gil’s eyes and lips and hips, but that he can’t share with anyone, let alone Creed, and in his dark moments he wishes death on himself for his cowardice.