[h1][b][i][color=red][center]Blackwall[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wqW6DI4.png[/img][/center]

Waving curtly at Ava as she was dragged off, the beastly man called Blackwall reached into his jacket pocket for a thick cigar. After a productive snort, he bit a small amount of wrapping from the end, spat on the ground, struck a match, and began puffing idly on his vice. Within a few short moments, he was grinning as the smoke flooded his lungs, then began flowing from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth.

After being requested (demanded, more like) to assemble with some of the other oddballs, Blackwall had figured that there might be something interesting happening to occupy his mind for a few hours. However, it seemed that someone had dropped the ball somewhere, and he immediately felt the urge to voice his displeasure. But that would mean potentially losing out on a payoff, and he wasn't quite secure in his savings at present.

[color=red][B]"Hey. When your people get their shit together, let me know."[/B][/color] He rumbled at the nearest guardsman - jabbing the smaller man in the center of the chest with his thick, calloused finger. The guard stumbled back a bit at the unexpected strength behind the poke.

It was only through sheer force of will that Blackwall avoided slapping the man across the face for a laugh. He was not an adherent to the adage "Don't kill the messenger" on the best of days, and this inconvenience had him wanting to blow off some steam.

Biting the end of his cigar and savoring the flavor and warmth as he turned and walked away, he wondered whether or not he could get away with a scuffle under such interest from the powers that be.

[color=red][I]Maybe I'll go do a job real quick. Or maybe I'll snag a drink."[/I][/color] He thought, making his way towards the nearest bar.