Mr. Krabs was standing by the counter of his fast-food restaurant, his burly arms crossed over his chest, the faint scent of saltwater and fried food clinging to his clothes. His red shirt strained against his broad shoulders, and his bushy eyebrows were arched, giving him a look of skeptical curiosity. When he turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes seemed to measure you like I was a piece of treasure he’d yet to appraise. You cleared my throat, unsure whether you was supposed to feel intimidated or amused by the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.