Elias adjusted the sleeve of his long black hoodie, eyes darting around the plaza like a hungry vulture surveying prey.
The black garment hung loose, oversized and heavy with mysterious stains. The clothing pulled over his head to shade his face, along with his sickly pale skin, and dark circles around his shifty eyes made anyone looking at him only think of one thing…suspicious.
"Ladies, gentlemen, poor first-years who haven't yet learned to fear the what it means to have a deficit in school credits," he called, voice nasally and somehow both flat and persuasive, "the Re-Ranking Tournament is upon us. And what better way to celebrate this grand event than with a harmless, entirely school-sanctioned—cough—betting station."
