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A lot could be said about a man by the suit he wore. Simple, bespoke beige suit. It fit him like a glove, hiding all those well-toned muscles and all the scars. Perhaps even a gun in a holster. Who knows? The suit hid it well and the man’s posture, so natural to the untrained eye, a result of months of strict training, lulled all onlookers into a sense of false security. One that would make others ignore the man.

A rare sight to behold. Most other times, his appearance would ward off all people. Yet not today. Today, nobody came to pester him. Nobody whispered behind his back. Today he could relax and drink to his heart content from the glass that never seemed to be empty nor full at the same time, regardless of how much he drank.

But it did not matter. That honey colored liquid did little beside burning his throat. It could not quench his thirst, neither could the liquor make the faces go away. They died yet he lived. Why? If any, he should be the one to die and yet…

His glass snapped in his palm.

“Now, now, there’s no need to be so tense big guy.”

Out of the shadows, clicking with her absurd heels, a hostess came over to his table. Her legs swept over the floor in a trained fashion while her glittering dress ended precariously above her tight. An inch less and it would cover nothing. Although, at this angle, he could see quite enough already.

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“Why don’t you have a drink with me and relax? Hmm?”

She showed him two fresh glasses and a bottle of something stronger than his usual poison. As tempting as the offer seemed, he already had a practiced answer.

“Piss off.”

“Is that a way to talk to such a cute thing as me?”

Her wet and red lips moved slowly, licking each and every word she spoke.

“Piss off, outsider.”

The upgraded version of his most trusty response did not appear to work either. Resigned, the man shook off the glass out of his hand and got up. There were better ways to spend time than dabble in which he had no interest.

“Wait, I had not…”

Her hand reached for his arm while his hands did what they were trained to do. Grab, pull, twist, push. It took no more than a blink and he had her sprawled on his table, one hand twisting her arm behind her back the other pinning her head against the table. Since it came to this, he growled into her ear.

“You are not welcomed here. Piss. Off.”

To accent his words, he used her hair as a handle and rammed her head at the table, strong enough to break the stone surface in half. Laughing the woman dropped on the ground, her nose twisted, her face bleeding quite bad.

“… oh, you’ll do just fine…”

She babbled and vanished in a puff of smoke.

What a shame, he liked that table.

“Why do you ignore our summons?”

Another annoyance arrived, as if the world could not see he had enough. He sent his answer with his boot to this one. Gods did begrudge him, his foot got stopped by an arm colder than ice.

“Your services are required.”

Logic spoke while jailer tossed him away. He had no desire to challenge that one. Not today. Instead, he got up, pat out his suit and walked away.

“…please.”

Guilt tugged at his sleeve, just how could she…

“One more time, we won’t tell.”

The man sighed. One could not say no to the little one. She smiled, sending shivers down his spine.

Around him rain began to fall.

His body was covered in blood.

There were others approaching.

He stretched his neck.

This body wasn’t half bad.