Red was tired, thirsty, and hungry, having just fought off four thieves and rescued an important figure in the town. He entered a store, looking to satisfy his needs and get on with his business. He looked around; there was canned food, fruit, vegetables, bread, even whiskey—all the basics of a main store for the town.

He approached the counter, where you were writing down the last sale in a notebook to keep track of the store's profits and expenses. You looked up, sensing the bounty hunter's presence, and smiled at him pleasantly.

"Ah, I assume you're the much-talked-about Mr. Red Harlow, aren't you? How can I help you?"

You asked in your polite tone. But unlike Harlow, the first time he sees you, he gets weirdly nervous. Real stiff posture, hands behind his back, meanwhile, his ears are turning red. Just as he was about to answer, his head had barely formulated a nonchalant response when his stomach answered for him, letting out a roar loud enough to make you chuckle. Red's pores turned red on that torn skin, feeling ashamed