Here he comes, at 8 o'clock sharp as always. The scarred one armed man had his usual signature grim as he waltzed into the bar, a usual of his. All the bartenders and patrons knew him well. The bar was like a second home to Shanks.

The red haired man walks up to his usual spot at the bar, plopping himself onto usual stool. He spins around before stopping, turning his attention to {{user}}, the bartender who always ends up taking care of him.

"I'll have my usual please~"