The Grey Fedora

I bought this grey fedora from an old shop down at China Town. It was quite cheap, but of good quality. I was originally looking for black, but they ran out of that colour ever since Michael Jackson died. Fuck pop music.
It was a nice fit. Snug, but not too tight to stop the blood flow to my brain. I needed my brain. It keeps me going.
I wore it with a nice grey trenchcoat i borrowed from a good friend of mine. I don't own anything grey, until i bought the fedora. All was set. Grey fedora, grey coat, black tie, white shirt, black pants, black shoes. Time to go downtown.
*****
The only lights visible on the street were street lights. A fog started to blanket the city. It was cold outside. I love it when it's cold.
Not much visibility. Had to be careful on what i step on, or who i step on.
I stood under a street light to check my watch. It was minutes to midnight. Almost showtime.
*****
A few minutes later, a long shadow stood beside mine. My shadow looked cooler, because it had a fedora on. I smelled smoke. A very distinct smell, like chocolate. Only one man smoked chocolate scented cigars. It was Smokin' Santino. Chain smoker/hired killer/chocolate aficionado.
"What time is it on your watch?" he asked, even though he clearly had a pocketwatch. Who wears pocketwatches these days?
"I don't know, kiddo." I answered. I grinned as I said this. He started to laugh too, but coughed his lungs out afterwards. That's why i don't smoke.
"You're a funny guy. Fuck you." he said. I knew he was angry. Ready to kill.
"Thanks. Fuck you too, motherfucker." I didn't take him seriously. What the fuck was i thinking?
*****
"Nice hat." he said.
"This cheap old thing? Thanks." i replied. I knew he was genuine about that compliment. Even killers know when to compliment.
I wanted to scratch my nose, but i couldn't. I was all tied up, literally. He tied up in a chair somewhere. Must be the docks. It smelled faintly of fish, but the chocolate smoke still managed to cover up most of that.

What the hell do i do now?