When Detectives Matthew Sikes and George Francisco flipped their shields at the guy behind the security desk, it was Richler’s office he buzzed, and it was old man Richler himself who came down to the desk. No intermediaries, no henchmen, no flunkies, and no foolin’. Richler’s appearance was unlikely for the head of a firm that specialized in so meticulous a field as medicine, for the outer man was anything but meticulous. He was tall and galumphy, about fifty-five or sixty, pot-bellied, big-nosed, round-faced and hairy, the latter despite being clean-shaven. A Toscanini-maestrolike shock of brown hair streaked with gray was swept back over his head; his sideburns and eyebrows were big, bushy and unruly; and stray hairs popped out of every orifice that could reasonably support them. The backs of his hands were very close to being matted with gray as well. His clothes, jacket in particular, hung on him dutifully, but not particularly stylishly, and he wore his tie slightly loose.
What do You think about Alien Nation #6 - Passing Fancy?
