Flint turned his head to look to Karrem, his five-o-clock shadow shading his hard features. His face looked of utter boredom mixed with anger and a dollop of unemotional death. He looked down at the bottle then back to Karrem, the expression not changing.  

He finally spoke. “Sure” the word came out in a mono tone voice almost like that of a robot. The bottle of whiskey was soon in Karrems hand as Flint turned back to look towards the club. Action man had exited the car and seemed to be talking to someone, Flint didn’t pay too much attention as he unfortunately began to see the plan fall apart. 

Parry was walking towards the door, and Flint didn’t seem so bored anymore. “Fuck” He muttered, sitting up straight and looking to Karrem in the back seat. “You sure you are going to be ok with that stick if shit go’s down” Flint asked, noting the sword at the faerie’s hip. “I can give you something with a bit more reach if you want.”