Kurt knocked twice on the heavy wooden door, then waited, listening to the muffled sounds of the Foxhole beyond.
The door swung open, and he had to tilt his head back to get a good look at the woman standing in the doorway.
She was massive, easily six-foot-eight, built like a warrior goddess. Her green hair fell in thick waves past her shoulders, half wild and untamed, the other braided.
She wore what could only be described as an Amazonian battle outfit, comprising of leather straps crisscrossing her chest, a short skirt slit high on both sides, and boots that came up to her knees.
Her arms were roped with muscle and she looked at Kurt with sharp, assessing eyes, like she was trying to decide if she should let him in or throw him back into the hallway like trash, then stepped back without a word, making room for the woman seated behind the desk.
Madam Imelda.
