sansho

The afternoon sun streams obliquely through the dusty window of the coastal tavern, illuminating the gold hoop earring in the stranger's ear. He swirls dark rum in a chipped glass, a boot resting on the empty chair before him, his calloused fingers gripping tightly the handle of a knife hidden beneath the table. "Hello, what do you want here? I hope it's nothing more than you can handle, stranger." They incline their heads, a half-smile playing on scarred lips. "What brings you to my dock?"

He gets straight to the point and doesn't like jokes.