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Mal'akuth swirled the whiskey in his glass, listening to the chinking of the ice cubes, breathing in the aroma of synthetic conception. Already the worries of his day were beginning to fade, even before the first taste. Just watching its gentle vortex was hypnotizing enough. It was his one vice and he intended to make a virtue of it, savour it, not race to the bottom of the bottle like he often had after a days work. When the liquid settled he brought it to his weather-cracked lips and let the amber fluid sit in his mouth a while before swallowing. He closed his eyes, dwelling only on the flavour. The soft amber colour belied a harsh taste but after years of forcing down the metallic consistency of blood and death, the whiskey's taste was lost to sapor.

For the most part he now ignored the din of conversation emanating throughout the bar. After the supposed revolutionaries left, he found no interest in listening to anymore drunken gossip. How could he when a group of idiots just signed their own death sentences right in front of him? Did they know the danger they were in? Did they not realize that anyone could be listening? The bartending droid? The bar's patrons? Perhaps that a camera and microphone may have picked up their conversation? 

Bah, but who was he fooling. He was no less a criminal then they were, if not more. While they posed a chance at survival, he had little too none. He was living on borrowed time. Amassing wealth that had no value in the grave. He was a dead-man walking. That he had been for the majority of his life.

A sudden shift in the rooms mood caught the attention of the brooding Sykrott. It was an animalistic presence, one better suited for the wild rather than a bar. Mal'akuth's eyes jumped from patron to patron, searching out the anomaly, but none returned positive. 

It wasn't until his eyes caught those of another, to which it quickly turned away, that he found his culprit. Mal'akuth snorted. Another rookie thrust into the impossible role of taking him in or out. He felt for the youngster. He would die trying. Mal'akuth glanced at the dog at the boy's feet. It's eyes refused to leave his person. It was challenging him, daring him to make a move at his master, yet wary of his power. The animalistic presence.

Dog's were such stupid creatures. Loyal to fault. Weaknesses and death through domestication, such was the fate of "Man's Best Friend".

Mal'akuth, no longer interested in his brink, downed it in own go, and made headway for the boy. He wanted a word with him before the next most likely scenario played out.