Hunter tilted his head, watching the man sweat.
"I want the supplier," he said calmly. "Give me a name."
"I don't—I don't know his name, he never—"
Hunter stood dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, it sizzled before the ember flicked to death.
The chair scraped back, grating metal over stone. His shadow stretched long over the floor as he moved to the table by the wall.
On it sat a crystal decanter of something expensive he wasn't going to drink, and beside that, a small steel case.
He opened it slowly, like unwrapping a gift.
Inside, the snakes writhed.
