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 The spring rain hammer the grim streets. Between the shroud and the already dying light of the fading evening, the only illumination came in the lit candelabras of warding street posts. The magic flames hissed in rebellion against the droplets that cascaded down upon the kettle lids that housed them. 

The smoke from his rolled tobacco mixed with the wafting steam that clouded the walkways around the various buildings. They were close knit here, each seeming to have its own characteristic lean as if attempting to escape one another' proximity; like children steadfastly refusing to touch shoulders in a cramped carriage seat. He inhaled, deeply. The smolder of the coals briefly illuminating the dark shaded lines of his features, glimmering off the keen bite of his intuitive gaze. Besides he and the rain, the streets of Shanton seemed empty. 

However, the noise at his back was company enough for him. The cobbled pavement was filled by naught but ghosts, but the warm, bright interior of the bar was a bustling hub of activity as always. He would tilt his head back, mismatched eyes momentarily finding the slanted eave that the fresh rainwater poured from as if from a bucket. There was a steady drip somewhere, one he searched for lazily as he slowly exhaled the pent smog from his lungs. A low sigh followed as he spotted it. An unfortunately large one, at that. One he would have to call in repairs for. A lowly growled son of a bitch would escape him as he drug his back from the rough stone. His free hand running through his messy hair as the remnants of the leaf would be flicked away, just another hushed sizzle in the twilight. Fingers found the door knob once more and he allowed himself back into the all too bright interior.