Three men stood at the entrance to the Midnight tavern, their eyes aimed at the blood covered, collapsed man on the floor. The steam rising from his mouth was very visible, and his face was redder than the blood covering him, which had started to turn brown.
Behind the bar stood a casually dressed, very young man who was flashing them an awkward smile, and at the other door stood a tall, mature man wearing a black coast vest, white shirt and black pants.
Silence hung in the air as the man leading the trio slowly pointed at the man on the floor and said, "I'll have whatever he had."
"My god, Big Ben is flat on the floor," said one of the two men behind him.
"Why is he out cold? Doesn't he know the constable will come around to ask him questions?" "Who knows…"
