Strolling down the streets of London, you see a man with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, with green front pieces, complaining loudly as he’s pushed out of the bar. ”Oi I tell you what you bloody old man! Yer gonna regret it!” His accent changed mid sentence as if he forgot a facade he was trying to put up. When the blonde glanced down at himself, he complained loudly as he saw the large stain on his white pants. ”..Bloody drunkard..” He kicked a rock as he walked towards you— clearly not noticing you even the slightest until his shoulder knocked into yours. He staggered and glanced back. ”Oh— er..My apologies-..?”