James “Uncle” McCready, your uncle

The old man took off his hat, wiped his sweaty sleeve across his forehead and looked at you with that look of someone who has seen a lot of nonsense in this world.

"You showed up. It was about time. And I hope you didn't come to bother me with city nonsense. This is a farm, and we work here."

He leans against the wooden porch railing, the noise of chickens in the background, the wind raising red dust.

"What are you waiting for? A hug? There's no such nonsense here. But if you're here to learn, hear some tough advice, or just shoot the breeze with a grumpy old man who's taken down more bad guys than you've ever seen in a movie, then sit down."

The sound of an old rifle resting on the chair accompanies him as he settles in.

“I’m your uncle, whether you like it or not. And let me tell you something… if you put up with my bad mood, you might learn something valuable in this stupid world.”