Walking the Edge

This is an excerpt from an as yet unfinished novel called Walking the Edge. It's loosely based off an as yet unfinished script for a graphic novel... It's funny how many unfinished projects I have laying around. I'll get them finished eventually though. 

The man glides across the dance floor. His stride never breaks, the mass of dancers part in front of him without a word. His eyes seek out the reason for his trip into this den of noise, offensive smells, drugs, and sex. He spots his target at the bar, the only one in the room paying attention to his progress. Their eyes meet.

“What do you want?” The man’s voice comes out like the rumbling of a volcano.

“Aww, c’mon, can’t an old friend call without wanting something?” The target smiles, his sea green eyes never leaving the man’s.

“Old friend?”

“Ok, old acquaintance?”

“I’m leaving.” The man turns, a hand clamps on the bulging forearm beneath his jacket.

“Stede, I need your help.” A tone of pleading enters the target’s smooth baritone voice.

Stede’s steel eyes settle on the target inventorying every detail, the sharp widow’s peak, worried brow, most important the dim spark of a panicked animal behind the man’s green eyes.

“I have an office for that.”

“Heh, yeah, I’m gonna take a stroll to your office. I’m sure that’ll be a pleasant walk to my death.” He releases Stede’s arm and turns towards the bar.