Sandro spit on the floor, the sticky, whitish saliva hit the spot next to the bearded man's hands. If he tried again, he'd probably hit the face the second time, but the man glared at him with eyes that showed no hesitation to kill.
Sandro swallowed hard. He got braver when the bearded man spoke of not killing them, for his master wanted them alive. Knowing that he won't be a match if the older man tried to fight back.
Sandro gritted his teeth. He clenched his fists tied on the back of the chair and struggled in a futile attempt to flee, but his efforts were in vain.
The taste of something revolting lingered in his mouth, as he muttered those last sentences, skillfully pasting together the fragments of information and pieces of a distant memory, starring his friend and employer, Azrael.
The bearded man's astonished look soon turned into a skeptical one. He smirked knowingly, and soon the skepticism in his eyes vanished and was replaced with amusement.
