Even from inside the furnished and secure walls of the Cafe, the sound of impending hate was clear. Heavy footsteps. Barely suppressed rage. A secured sword clicking against the tarnished uniform of one very pissed off Simon Perrot.
He barged through the door, ignoring every last person who happened to be enjoying an evening in the establishment.
He collapsed angrily into a table down at the far end of the room, and stared angrily at the floor.