He looked pretty scary and yet melancholic sitting alone by the counter in the old bar. Whenever he would raise his head it was possible to see under the Havana type hat the long ugly scar that crossed his left blue eye, it fitted perfectly with the thing he had pending from the left side of his back.
The bunch of meat, cartilage feathery covered used to lean upon the ground when he was standing and walking and therefore always had a dirty end. It was possible to notice it was constantly cleaned carefully, but because it probably would be dragged on the ground again it would be dirty again and so it was grimy.
The only injury he had that was not on the left side was that he limped from his right leg. He used to say, whenever asked, it was from a skateboard accident. But stories told he was shot one of the many times he tried to run away.
He didn't mind the limping much though. What he minded most was his left wing. When he got it broken, and he lost his demon he could only fly in circles, and that was no use since he wanted to go as further as possible from that place that now is geographically in the past.
People were very intrigued about what could be the whole incident that resulted in that result, to avoid the conversation he would politely explain it was just like a death in Vegas.
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