Throne of Smoke

This whiskey is strong. The man in the black jacket taps his cup impatiently. "He should have called by now" he thinks. "If everything when the way it supposed to go he would have already called." He begins to tap faster. He looks down at his watch and he sees the call is 4 minutes late.  He stops tapping and rubs his temples. Soon his leg starts to rock. He took a sip of his drink and grimaces. Just when he was about to get up and leave, the telephone on the desk rings. He gets quickly and takes a breath before answering the phone. "Hello" he answers. His voice not revealing his anxiousness. "Its done." a gruff voice answers. "Perfect. Thank you." He nods his head and releases a breath. "Now what do we do?"  When he doesn't get a response from the other side of the phone he clears his throat. "Hello?" "We wait." the man with the gruff voice answers and hangs up. He looks at the phone before putting it back on its base. He turns back to his seat and downs his whiskey.  Coughing he sets the cup down and leaves the room. His shoulders less tense then when he arrived.