bilious

The smell of sulfur and cigarette butts crept through the stifling air. No one was in sight until we walked towards the kitchen where a man, hunched over the sink, turned to face us.
“Whadya want?” he asked with a raspy tone. The grime on his teeth almost completely covered the yellow enamel that struggled to survive. I noticed a missing gap where a tooth once lived.
“We’re just looking for him.”
The man glared, “Get out! He’s not here anymore. Leave! Leave!” His eyes looked as if he’d throw the blade he tightly gripped in his bony hands. The glint of the blade was already red.