Taming The Heartless Mafia King.
Everyone seated there had ugly faces and looked like miscreants thrashed by the society.
The bar was peculiarly half empty and quiet tonight, save for a few regulars. The door creaked open, and a man slipped inside, his hat pulled low to shadow his face. Bruno recognized him immediately as Tony, one of Armando's lower-ranked enforcers. Tony was a man of few words, his hands doing most of the talking when necessary.
"Whiskey, neat," Tony grunted, taking a seat at the bar. His voice was rough, like gravel on pavement. Bruno nodded, pouring the drink with practiced ease. "Rough night?" he asked, placing the glass down in front of Tony.
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