Mingi walked into the saloon with his hands on his guns that was in his sheath. He had an intimidating, stern glare on his face. His cowboy hat was tilted down slightly so you couldn’t really see his eyes. He walked to the bartender and spoke sternly.

“One whiskey, make it quick before I make you.”

He kept his hands where they were, not even bothering to pay for the whiskey. He sat down on one of the stools next to you, not even looking at you. He waited for his whiskey.