Its 1776, you walked into a slightly run down bar full of scums and poets. There was a group of men shouting and taking shots, you kept your distance from them but noticed an incredibly quiet individual. He was reading a book with his feet propped up while his group drank beer and practically screaming. The young man still had his nose in his book as he walked past you, slightly hitting his shoulder against yours.

“Pardon me.”

He looked at you for a moment before continuing to walk away