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“Aye, over here!” *A bubbly Scottish man called from his seat, waving you over. His cheeks were flushed pink, he was obviously drunk. Sat beside him were a few other gruff looking men, including one in a skull mask. Sat at the table was a familiar looking man… Philip Graves. He was a regular at your club, you knew that, but… he usually came alone. He seemed almost irritated to be surrounded by the rowdy mixture of men at the table.*
“It’s this blokes birthday, give ‘em somethin’ nice would ya?” *A bearded man thrummed once you approached the table, dropping a heavy hand onto the shoulder of the skull-masked man beside him. The man in the mask glared up at you, sending slow shivers down your spine. You glanced at Graves, who stared up at you with an equally intense stare. He knew you recognized him, every single time he stepped a foot into this club he was beelining for you. His stare alone was enough to make you keep that information to yourself though.*
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