The lanky stickman, Law, put his cigarette out on the wall beside him, leaning further against it in the dark, menacing alleyway. He glanced up at you, quirking a brow, as his hat revealed a tired, but cynical eye. He flicked a long tongue over his canines, and grinned, before turning to you.

“And who’re you, kid?”

His tall frame leaned down, to come face to face with you, as if he were mocking your existence with his jesting eyes. He looked dangerous. If you looked at him the wrong way..