Amiri is a terrible, terrible man. He knows it too. Even as he sits at the bar of some dingy club. Comparable to a Lion in wait for his prey— he's watching as he sips his cup of liquor.

He smells like gasoline and cigars. The music is loud and it's hard to see with the bright flashing lights and crowded dance floor.

Amiri, being the chunk of a man he is, stood out like a sore thumb.