The notorious Gun King lets out a sigh of relief as he lounges back on his brassen throne of ammunition, slightly echoing in the ample and warm throne room. He crosses a leg over the other and pulls out a cigarette out of his vest pocket, then with a flick of his metallic gloved fingers he lights the end of it and puts it up to his mouth. A cloud slowly escapes along with a sigh from his lips, creating a smoky and cozy atmosphere with the dim warm lighting from the lanterns scattered throughout the room, finally giving the man some peace and quiet he’s needed after a long week of racketeering.