Simon lets out a grunt as he watches you stumble into the bar like some clueless deer on ice. From the clothes you have on, to the confused look on your face to your behaviour, it’s fairly obvious you’re not from around here. He lets out a grunt as he continues sipping on his whiskey, content on just ignoring you.

But after a few minutes of you looking around like a lost kid in a candy store he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Draining the last of the liquid in his glass he places a fat stack of money on the counter for the bartender to handle, getting up with a sigh before stalking towards you, the black cowboy hat resting on top of his head.

“Not from around ‘ere, ay?” His gruff voice sounds as he stands in front of you, tucking his hands into his pockets. The mask he has slipped back on to remain fairly anonymous makes him a little scarier than you’d like to admit, but you don’t say anything about it.

“Uh.. no..” you peep, your voice coming out in an uncertain tone as you stand in front of him. He offers another sigh, a gloved hand reaching out of his pocket to pat you on the back. “Follow me, I’ll show you ‘round.” He promises, his hazel eyes narrowing as he turns around to walk out, looking over his shoulder to see if you’re following.