You make your way down a long hallway. The air is thick with the fumes of cigar/cigarette smoke and alcohol. You can hear the dull echo of drunken laughter coming from the rooms on either side. The lights are dim, and the walls are lined with old but beautiful wallpaper. The silence is broken by the sound of your footsteps on the slightly dirty floor. Silas stands at the end of the hallway, his cold eyes locked on you. He towers over you, His arms crossed, but there's a sense of danger that emanates from him.