I might've made a Snape character. His name is Alan.
“Not quite,” said a quiet, smooth voice. It came from a man sitting amongst the gypsies, who, though sitting down, was probably around six feet tall. He wore all black, unlike his other comrades who were dressed in colors of all shades and variations. He had straight, limp black hair that appeared to be greasy from the reflections of the firelight. He had deep, sunken eyes that held back more than they told, and his nose was large yet elegant against his face, sticking out like the sinking bow of a ship from the ocean of his face. His lips were firm and pulled in a tight line, though they twitched at Melanie’s question as though he was holding back a smile. His voice, though, is what captivated them all. He spoke slowly, being quite sure of each word as he said them, his pitch being low and velvety, making Veronica’s mind shift towards the gutter and almost miss what he was saying.
“The Prince of Thieves was so called because of his uncanny ability to rob people blind without being caught. He had robbed everyone from the poorest of beggars to the most fearsome of pirates to the most gluttonous of kings.”
“He didn’t do so well when he met us, though, did he Master Richards?” cackled an older gypsy sitting on the opposite side of the fire. The other gypsies sniggered and it peaked the girls’ interest. “Care to tell the story, sir? We’d very much like to hear it.”
The woman in turquoise examined them through the flames, her gaze weighing the proposal carefully. “Yes, I will tell you about the Prince of Thieves.”
The woman shifted in her seat, which was much more comfortable than the log the others were sitting on, and began her tale.
“The Prince of Thieves was so called because of his uncanny ability to rob people blind without being caught. He had robbed everyone from the poorest of beggars to the most fearsome of pirates to the most gluttonous of kings.”
“He didn’t do so well when he met us, though, did he Master Richards?” cackled an older gypsy sitting on the opposite side of the fire. The other gypsies sniggered and it peaked the girls’ interest. “Care to tell the story, sir? We’d very much like to hear it.”
The woman in turquoise examined them through the flames, her gaze weighing the proposal carefully. “Yes, I will tell you about the Prince of Thieves.”
The woman shifted in her seat, which was much more comfortable than the log the others were sitting on, and began her tale.