Random Prose Moment : Sort of Noir 2

I walked into the bar like I had passed through its doors a thousand times before. The place stank of stale beer, old sweat, and other smells that said that it was a place of business for more then just the barkeep. I didn't want to be there, I didn't belong there among the petty gangsters with their tired sighs and the prostitutes with their dead eyes and hungry smiles. I was there because I had a job to do, and it was warmer then it was outside. Winter had fallen over the city and it was colder then the devil's teat on the streets right now.

I needed to get up the stairwell on the far side. Preferably without anyone stopping me and trying to find out what my business there was. Moving through the room like I belonged there, nodding to a couple people I didn't know, and trying to avoid being noticed by the one person there I did.

Vick was a snitch and a squeeler and he had a seat in the cornor with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. He probably made me the moment I walked in and was just playing the numbers in his head to see if he could make more by selling me out now, or selling me info later.

I hate this city. I already had two bullets in me tonight, one of lead and the other of brandy. Both sat hot and bitter in my stomach. I needed to get this done and get in the clear, or the street sweeps would find me in the morning, another dead body found frozen on someones stoop.

Random bit of prose again. Lost the direction it was going to go about here. Not sure why I keep coming back to this style or this sort of scene. I really don't have any real story idea in my head, but I just seem to like the style and it is something fun to write at times. Maybe I'll dub it Project 14 and officially make it one of my many writing projects. We'll see.