emo-ass motherfuckers that they were - with a snarl , v pivoted in the direction of the prevailing wind , and he would have offered up a prayer of thanks if he did n't hate his mother so much : in and among the tendrils of fog , riding upon the vapors of gray and white humidity , the sweet smell of the enemy gave him purpose and a definition that his numb state had not just lacked , but seemed likely to reject .