It is the darkest hours of night as we find Stark still going about completing his reports of the day.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
The thunderous pounding from the alleyway entry quickly draws his alert attention.
"Who could that be? I'm not expecting anyone, especially not this late.", he whispers worriedly to himself.
Cautiously he makes his way up the escarpment to the bolted door; steam from the saunas condense in running rivulets down the walls and across the floor as he passes by. He slides a spy hatch open and peers into the swirling snow of the night and yet .... sees nothing. Hastily closing the hatch, Stark shrugs in confusion and makes to return to his study.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Stark nearly jumps out of his feathered hide as the deafening blows ring throughout the building. "What the flaming ....", he curses as he again tremulously opens the spy hatch... and again... can see nothing.
Closing the hatch, Stark contemplates what the source of this nocturnal disturbance could be, when...
THUMP THUMP THUMP POUND POUND POUND
Growling in irritation, Stark throws back the restraining bolts of the door. As the light of the building spills into the dark and ice covered depths of the back alley they illuminate the source of the midnight madness...
"About time ye opened the damn-ed door ye flamin unplucked, undercooked chicken... ye seekin to be seein me freeze te death fer yer own pleasure or what ... and another thing..."
Stark sighs and patiently waits for his visitor to take a breath, certain that it will likely be a while yet.
(continued)
