The lounge was packed, crates stacked high along the walls. Rook stood at the center table, tallying up the haul while guild members milled about, some still nursing bruises from the last raid.
"Think we've done enough, boss?" someone called from the back. A few others murmured agreement. "We've hit them pretty hard already."
Kurt, who'd been pacing near the window, patting his empty coat pockets in a futile search for cigarettes, stopped dead.
His head turned slowly, and when he finally spun around to face the murmuring crowd, his expression had darkened.
"Enough?" The word came out sharp. "Ladies... and gents." He shook his head, pulling a toothpick from a container on the counter and jamming it between his teeth. "You know, Cassandra's right about one thing. We're not nearly doing enough, lads."
