Hands stuffed into the pockets of his grey coat, face scrunched up into an impatient frown as Butcher kept his gaze on the door half hidden in the dim shadows of the alleyway. While he couldn't call the dark alley his favorite place to be, it would do the job as a venue for him and the whistleblower Frenchie had somehow organized. Then, finally, the door got pushed open and a dark silhouette stepped into the alley, causing Butcher to smirk. "How's it going, love? Ya got something for me?"