The sound of someone's footsteps kept increasing as it drew closer to the room; he took a sharp turn to the left, exercising his fingers with a usual confidence drawn on his face. This wasn't his first visit to this secluded house.
He finally arrived, and proceeded to knock three times repeatedly before the door was opened. On his left hand had a large brown envelope, the tattoo at the croon of his wrist was very conspicuous. He was ushered in, and a maid quickly served him one of his best juices.
"You are considerably late, Scar." a female voice softly called, with her high-heel echoing each step on the stairs.
"Ma'am," he was quick on his feet, with both hands locked at his front. "I was dealing with some assignments from my boss."
