Robert walked in the now familiar alley, following a man wearing a black suit bursting into its seams with his muscle. The way the man looked could make anyone laugh but no one would dare laugh once you looked at his face. His face has a deep scar running from his right temple, crossing his nose and stopping right at the middle of his left cheek.
It was the kind of scar that would make you wonder how the person got it but you would not dare to ask. Never.
He had his hands in his pocket as he followed the muscle-man. His demeanor appeared to be casual but deep inside he was a wreck.
He still remembered the first time he was called by the Boss of this gambling den. It ended up well in the sense that he was able to come out alive and breathing and without broken bones.
