The smartly-dressed brawler tosses back his leonine mane and raises a small glass of absinthe prepared in the french method, inhaling the blooming vapours.
You wouldn’t know it to look at me, he says, glancing down at his fine frock coat and adjusting a semiotic monocle with one calloused hand, but I’ve recently been dabbling in the Game. A… friend of mine is missing, and she was last seen in the ruins there. Thankfully, a number of urchins and other agents answer to me, and I’ve diverted most of my resources to finding her. In addition, I believe I’m one step closer to my lifelong goal of proving the existance of the Vake, although that ambition has had to be put on hold whilst I continue my work as a gentleman assistant to the Velocipede Squad.
He laughs and throws back the absinthe, pausing for a moment to allow the subtle flavours to linger on his tongue before swallowing.
The work suits me. They say you can take the thug out of the gutter, but you can never take the gutter out of the thug. Well, my straightforward ways might have seen me thrown out of the Universities, but half the criminal community of the Neath hides when I walk the streets, and the other half answers to me. It may not be grace, but it’s strength, and I know which I’d rather possess.
He takes a glass of wine from a passing waiter.
Ladies, gentlemen - to power, in whatever form you pursue it.
edited by Tharrick Lawson on 2/6/2012