Snippet #2766537

The ornate, double doors of the colosseum creaked open, the sudden gust of wind created by the change in pressure whipping up the drapes and rattling the chandeliers, their crystals clinking together like finger bones, a roar high up in roof an indication of the rain that was plummeting down in great sheets from the charcoal sky outside.
A hooded figure stood in the doorway, his cloak billowing around him. And with the dull thud of his loafers on the polished, wooden floor, he made his way to the bar, swinging his long, twisted staff like a walking aid, even though he needed nothing of the sort!
With a long, sickle like claw, he tapped on the bar. “Excuse me,” he said to the barmaid in a well spoken, English accent; but with a voice like blackened steel. “I am looking for the owner of this place. I wonder, do you know where he is? I have… a proposition to make.”