{Melisa}
Melisa leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking under her weight as she surveyed the room.
[.... Geez.]
The backroom smelled like stale beer and broken dreams, which seemed appropriate given the company. Koros sat at the head of the table like some discount crime lord, flanked by his usual collection of scowling one-toothed murderers.
For some reason, since this wasn't her first time in here, Koros's "war room" felt more like just a dingy back office, complete with a rickety table, some moth-eaten chairs, and a chalkboard that was one bad touch away from falling to pieces.
[Guess the revolution hasn't quite made it to interior decorating yet,] she thought wryly.
Koros himself was pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed as he muttered to himself.
"Did the Bazor boys slip away from the law?" Koros asked, probably talking about one of these people's many, many shady doings.
