Bit :)

Troy stood revealing the irony of his own name.  His world was crashing down around him, literally.  One of the oak beams that had been so painstakingly chosen ripped from its place in the ceiling, crushing its way to the floor below.  If it came to rest there Troy did not know, nor did he care.  Much like the famous city, the man was destroyed by a woman.  For what else could so thoroughly destroy a man?  Most men would have fled the crumbling structure, or at least made an attempt, perhaps flung himself out the window in a vain attempt to make a quick end of it.  Not Troy.  He calmly lit a cigarette, sat himself down in his handmade leather wingback and turning his eyes toward the window, watched as his kingdom came crashing down.  His lips formed a twisted smile, whispering the name that had ruined him.  Crimson.                Crimson Jackson.