Slowly one after another, the stairs  creaked eerily under the vestige of a passing heavy weight. One by one the old polished wood groaned, it's cries descending ever nearer towards the tavern floor. 

Just out of sight the moving body stopped. The creaking gave way to silence and the soft short sharp inhale of air being sucked up into ones nostrils could be heard. It repeated again and again with a stubborn yet concerned curiosity.

...

[i]"[color=Red][b]Fuck![/b] Dorian's gonna kill me.[/color]"[/i]

...

The words broke his silence in a short sharp whisper. Spat out with disappointment and regret. The man then quickly descended the stairs and came to look upon the crowd. He was an intimidating figure, tall and well built. Tattoos peeked out from under his clothing, piercing eyes surveying the scene, darting around looking for something. 

An near empty glass bottle caught his eye. Moving quickly with purpose he went over snatching it. Ignoring the commotion around him he eyed the few remaining blue droplets and as he did, frustration and worry took a hold of his face.

For a moment he was rendered speechless.