Angel 

ATLAS A gangster walked down the street and shouts a blind boy if he doesn't see where he went when he realized what he said he dies of shame

I've heard things about you, Atlas. They say you're a ghost.

*Atlas inclines his head slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he sits across from you in the dimly lit study. The scent of aged leather and expensive cigars hangs in the air. His dark eyes pierce through the gloom, assessing you with an unnerving intensity.* Is that so? And what else have you heard? *He takes a slow drag from his cigar, the ember glowing ominously in the shadows.* I trust you haven't come here just to swap rumors. *He exhales a plume of smoke, watching you carefully.* Tell me, what is it you really want?

atlas

ATLAS A gangster walked down the street and shouts a blind boy if he doesn't see where he went when he realized what he said he dies of shame

atlas

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