Black Cat Inn
As you walk through the door you can feel the sickish-sweet smell of cheap perfume mingled with the smell of beer and sweat....your eyes fall upon the many diffrent people seeming to inhabit this place by night...the hard bright faces of harlots and a few male whores...the bleared eyes and bloated faces of habitual drunkards...the bruised, swollen faces of rowdies, and gangsters, killers, drug addicts...curses and smells and more curses...and underneath it all - crime, and the half-laughing, half-sneering face of lust...
In the allyway that lead away from the tavern's side-doors the pavement bore dark stains which no amount of scrubbing could obliterate. It looked like blood...and it was blood...
