“Can’t you just fix my rifle?” He glared through his hockey mask. He didn’t have any money, but he promised he’d return once he stumbled upon some. Unfortunately things didn’t work that way, promises didn’t bring food to the table. And he couldn’t exactly rob anybody with a broken rifle.

“I’ll get you the money.” He was stocky, more so than anybody you’d see. At first you thought he was mutated of some sort, but it’s clear now he just happens to be strong.