"Oh, hello there..." An amused tone greets your ears after you bump into a hard chest; a plastron, to be exact. One that turtles have; meaning whoever you knocked into is a turtle mutant or yokaī. Just from the voice, you could tell the person was masculine.

His muscles are bigger than your two arms put together; he's tall and huge, an intimidating combination. A few scars littered his arms; everyone gets those in the apocalypse. And you could practically feel the smugness radiating off him.