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Description
He stumbled in, appearing rather skittish. It matched his thin frame and overall weak appearance, clearly new to this fine establishment. He glanced across the room, desperately looking for something, I merely stared at him in amusement, like a cat would at a mouse, which is what this creature was. His large ears twitched and searched around along with his gaze, and both fell upon me. My heart sank, and my lip turned up into a growl.

More beer.

His posture spiked up, and he started to worm his way to me, I smirked as he was gently heckled by other patrons as he made his way over. He stopped in front of me, I noticed he was carrying a large and sturdy metallic briefcase. Up close, his sharp, dark suit showed off more the fact that he did not belong here, as did the matching tie and shiny shoes.

Another chug.

"Mr O'Conner?" He squeaked. I reached into my pocket and pulled up a rough cigarette. He repeated the question, more anxiously this time. I lit the fag and took a short, deep drag on it. Its hot air filled my dry lungs, and I let out a filthy wheeze, expelling the smoke into the already thick air. The toxins and additives filled the gaps in me to keep me calm in front of this ridiculous mouse. He asked again, attempting to be more pushy. It worked.

A short pull on the cigarette.

"What..." I replied in an aggressive tone, a few turned to see what was going on, but just as quickly went back to their drinks. The rodent introduced himself quickly as a Mr Brooks, and that he worked for some zealously names company in need of assistance, that clearly only my 'skills' would be what they require. It wasn't the first time I had been sought out to do some sort of 'special' work, it generally involved the messy stuff.

I fumbled for my scotch on the bar.

"It'll be eight thou if ya want to finish yer request," I blurted. "if I'm worth that to yer boss." I knew I wasn't, but I could not give a shit right now. Work was steady, and a chance to either make a decent deal or get this little annoyance to shove off would suit me. His dark, thin eyes shined, and his long fingers shifted around the handle of the briefcase. I stared at him forcefully "N' more depending on what yer request is."

Somethin a lil different from me, and not the fact that its actually art! Wanted to add some background story to this to help fill the image. Copic Markers and coloured pencils.

Description
He stumbled in, appearing rather skittish. It matched his thin frame and overall weak appearance, clearly new to this fine establishment. He glanced across the room, desperately looking for something, I merely stared at him in amusement, like a cat would at a mouse, which is what this creature was. His large ears twitched and searched around along with his gaze, and both fell upon me. My heart sank, and my lip turned up into a growl.

More beer.

His posture spiked up, and he started to worm his way to me, I smirked as he was gently heckled by other patrons as he made his way over. He stopped in front of me, I noticed he was carrying a large and sturdy metallic briefcase. Up close, his sharp, dark suit showed off more the fact that he did not belong here, as did the matching tie and shiny shoes.

Another chug.

"Mr O'Conner?" He squeaked. I reached into my pocket and pulled up a rough cigarette. He repeated the question, more anxiously this time. I lit the fag and took a short, deep drag on it. Its hot air filled my dry lungs, and I let out a filthy wheeze, expelling the smoke into the already thick air. The toxins and additives filled the gaps in me to keep me calm in front of this ridiculous mouse. He asked again, attempting to be more pushy. It worked.

A short pull on the cigarette.

"What..." I replied in an aggressive tone, a few turned to see what was going on, but just as quickly went back to their drinks. The rodent introduced himself quickly as a Mr Brooks, and that he worked for some zealously names company in need of assistance, that clearly only my 'skills' would be what they require. It wasn't the first time I had been sought out to do some sort of 'special' work, it generally involved the messy stuff.

I fumbled for my scotch on the bar.

"It'll be eight thou if ya want to finish yer request," I blurted. "if I'm worth that to yer boss." I knew I wasn't, but I could not give a shit right now. Work was steady, and a chance to either make a decent deal or get this little annoyance to shove off would suit me. His dark, thin eyes shined, and his long fingers shifted around the handle of the briefcase. I stared at him forcefully "N' more depending on what yer request is."

Somethin a lil different from me, and not the fact that its actually art! Wanted to add some background story to this to help fill the image. Copic Markers and coloured pencils.