Snippet #2766503

The cloaked feline, who was almost as black as the night itself, stared up the large tent that was plonked in the middle of the street with scathing, yellow eyes. This was NOT what he’d had in mind… and SOMEBODY was going to DIE!
“You IDIOT!” he screamed at the unfortunate man standing next to him. “This isn't the building I asked for! USUALLY they have these things called WALLS! And they tend to be made out of these things called BRICKS! NOT CANVAS!”
The young man quivered, “I-It was all we could find S-Sir,” he mumbled. “We couldn't f-find another estate agent willing to work with you... and everyone else simply refused answer the door…!”
Tesslar sighed grumpily, “FINE! If anyone wants me, I'll be in my room!” And tossed the canvas aside, before storming into the tent.
The man didn't answer. Mainly because he was lying on the ground with his throat severed...
“Lawrence! Clean up that mess!” Tesslar hollered, before walking towards his own private quarters, noticing someone standing just outside. “Ah! Bombalurina, my sweet!” he purred, suddenly the picture of charm. “I don't suppose you've seen my little Pearl anywhere, have you?”
The curvaceous red Somali took a deep drag of her cigarette. “No, sorry,” she said. “Last I saw, she had to go for a lie down… said something about a headache…”
Tesslar tutted, his features folding themselves into something akin to disappointment (a dangerous emotion for ANYONE who happened to be standing within ten feet of him!) before pulling themselves back into one of what seemed to be pity... although it was hard to tell the difference! “Ah... that is... unfortunate...” he muttered. “I was so looking forward to…”
Bombalurina regarded him nervously, but her flagrant demeanour never slipped. Not once. In fact, she smirked and rested her arms upon his massive shoulders. “Never mind,” she said sweetly. “I'm sure she'll make it up you when she feels better. In the meantime… why don't I…?”
“Hmmm…” Tesslar grumbled, “I suppose you'll have to do…”