Oh. Hi again, frenchie... - Tristan

Tid: Fredag aften, ca. midnat.
Sted: Baren 'Late Night', lige udenfor åbningen.
Omgivelser: Et par fulde folk her og der, enten på vej ind i baren eller ud af baren.
Vejr: Køligt oktobervejr med en del vind.
Outfit: Link her, plus sko og halstørklæde

@Tristan
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This was nice. To get out on the town, ready to party and let loose, after the night's job was done. He'd gone and threatened - some might say tortured - information out of a family of three, downtown, where the family Dad had seen something he shouldn't, and he'd been hired to find out how much he knew, and make sure he wasn't going to say anything. To make real of his threats, he'd carved off a chunk of one of the man's biceps, and eaten it right in front of him after superficially cooking it, while the whole family had been tied up.

He'd only had his gloves off for the interrogation bit, after that he'd been wearing gloves so there's be no fingerprints on the knife from the kitchen that he'd used, or the pan. He liked the faint smell of blood there still was on his fingers, though, and he knew that his superficial cleaning of the blood would only fool humans. But again, as long as the humans didn't suspect anything, nothing would happen. He'd fooled the dog patrol before, he could again. He smiled as he walked from his motorcycle towards the entrance of the night club slash bar, 'Late Night', while smoking a cigerette. It was really just a nice, quiet evening.