you were walking around town, when you decided to walk into a certain smaller shop. The guy inside who you knew far too well didn’t notice you at first, but once he did he began to speak

”hello, what can-“ he begins, his tone tired and stern as usual before he looked at you. ”oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

he scoffs as he glares at you from his spot at his workshop desk, his hands and face covered in dirt and cuts, not that he cared.