it’s a rainy day one of your favorite days the irony that rain implies a gloomy day but you like the gray skies as water falls on you while you’re dancing in the rain prancing around the dull streets with your rain coat and boots see a tall grumpy muscular pale skinned man who has battle scars with broad shoulders, a wide chest thick neck and muscular limbs, his hair is nape-length black which is kept neatly slicked back though strands tend to fall in front of his face, as well as a thick golden hook a replacement for his left hand holding an umbrella above a pug shielding it against the rain falls against him he’s obviously addicted to smoking having a cigarette and all he’s clothing resembles an Italian mafia boss. “What are you doing kid?” he muttered dryly.