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Smoke and crude laughter floats in the polluted air of Jimmy's Den. This particular evening sees to a masked man sitting at a table in the corner, waiting for someone. An ordinary looking fellow joins him, no different from any layman you might encounter in the streets of Sundren City.
The plain looking man shifts in his chair, his grey gaze locked onto the masked figure.
"You rang?"
The masked figure slides a small portrait across the table. For a brief moment, one can spot the gnarled and blood tipped nails.
The plain looking man glances down and nods. "All right. Deliver the usual to Jim, and we're good." He stands, pulling up a hood of his own before melting into the bustling crowd of drunken rogues and scoundrels.
After another moment, the masked figure is gone as well.
The plain looking man shifts in his chair, his grey gaze locked onto the masked figure.
"You rang?"
The masked figure slides a small portrait across the table. For a brief moment, one can spot the gnarled and blood tipped nails.
The plain looking man glances down and nods. "All right. Deliver the usual to Jim, and we're good." He stands, pulling up a hood of his own before melting into the bustling crowd of drunken rogues and scoundrels.
After another moment, the masked figure is gone as well.