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<blockquote data-quote="johndaw16" data-source="post: 2786627" data-attributes="member: 12033">As the morning wears on, the rest of the Stilts begins to stutter awake.&nbsp; A light breeze picks up coming off the water bringing the now familiar smell of refuse and river mud.&nbsp; You can hear the squeak of a noodle cart, and its tender calling out his morning dishes.&nbsp; As if on cue the ever present gulls take to wing, screaming at one another as they fend for their breakfest.&nbsp; Another man is coming to join you at Eddie's.&nbsp; He's wearily shuffling his way across the street, from the mouth of an alleyway.&nbsp; He's tall, and well built with a solid frame.&nbsp; As he comes closer you see that he's well dressed, or was at one point.&nbsp; He's wearing a light blue pin-striped shirt, designer by the cut of it, and coal grey dress slacks.&nbsp; But there's hardly an inch thats not stained, and there are tears in the knees of the pants, and the shirt is missing most of its buttons.&nbsp; If the clothes weren't enough the man is fit enough and well built enough to tag him as someone who didn't grow up out here.&nbsp; His hair needs to be cut, and is lank with dirt and grime.&nbsp; He's handsome enough but not too pretty, a crooked nose and recently healed gash above his right eyebrow give him a worn look.&nbsp; A weeks worth of stubble graces his cheeks and chin.&nbsp; And he smells like the city and blood.&nbsp; He sits down at the far end of the bar and drops a heavy beaten up briefcase onto the counter.Cup of coffee, something to eat, please.He pulls a wallet out of his pants pocket, and drops a cruppled bill to the counter as he speaks.The man leans back on the stool, and pulls out a bent Lucky Strike and lights up.&nbsp; Sighing, as he seems to contemplate the trails of smoke.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="johndaw16, post: 2786627, member: 12033"] As the morning wears on, the rest of the Stilts begins to stutter awake. A light breeze picks up coming off the water bringing the now familiar smell of refuse and river mud. You can hear the squeak of a noodle cart, and its tender calling out his morning dishes. As if on cue the ever present gulls take to wing, screaming at one another as they fend for their breakfest. Another man is coming to join you at Eddie's. He's wearily shuffling his way across the street, from the mouth of an alleyway. He's tall, and well built with a solid frame. As he comes closer you see that he's well dressed, or was at one point. He's wearing a light blue pin-striped shirt, designer by the cut of it, and coal grey dress slacks. But there's hardly an inch thats not stained, and there are tears in the knees of the pants, and the shirt is missing most of its buttons. If the clothes weren't enough the man is fit enough and well built enough to tag him as someone who didn't grow up out here. His hair needs to be cut, and is lank with dirt and grime. He's handsome enough but not too pretty, a crooked nose and recently healed gash above his right eyebrow give him a worn look. A weeks worth of stubble graces his cheeks and chin. And he smells like the city and blood. [COLOR=MediumTurquoise]He sits down at the far end of the bar and drops a heavy beaten up briefcase onto the counter.[/COLOR] [COLOR=SeaGreen]Cup of coffee, something to eat, please.[/COLOR] [COLOR=MediumTurquoise]He pulls a wallet out of his pants pocket, and drops a cruppled bill to the counter as he speaks.[/COLOR] The man leans back on the stool, and pulls out a bent Lucky Strike and lights up. Sighing, as he seems to contemplate the trails of smoke. [/QUOTE]

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