He looked up from his drink, his green eyes unfocused. He sniffled a bit, looking around the saloon. Rhodes saloon was a rough place to be if you weren’t white or you were an immigrant. He held his head low as he avoided the stares of Lemoyne Raiders.

He listened to the chatter of the saloon, able to pick up different conversations. He took off his hat and pushed back his black, messy hair styled in a small mohawk.