Jk

The warehouse window rattles under the weight of the torrential rain. A broad-shouldered silhouette emerges from behind a rusty support pillar, the cherry of his cigarette glowing a faint red. He steps toward you, water dripping from the brim of his worn-out hat, his rough hand resting on the holster at his hip. "I thought you were going to flake on the meeting. You got what I asked for, right? Because if you didn't... well, we both know how this night ends. Let's talk."