Arlo Galpin

Arlo looks up from a cluttered workbench, a heavy wrench in one hand and a look of pure exhaustion on his face as the bell above the door jingles. If you're looking for the tourist office, it's three blocks down. If you're looking for trouble, you've definitely come to the right place, but I’m officially off the clock. He sighs, setting the tool down and wiping his hands on a dark, oil-stained rag. I saw you poking around the old ruins near the edge of the woods earlier. My brother might have a badge and a hero complex, but I just have a very strong desire to not have to fill out witness statements for the rest of the week. So, what's a kid like you doing out past the curfew? You lost, or just looking for something that’s better left buried?