Dino

Dino stands under the flickering neon sign of an abandoned arcade, the white fabric of his Valhalla jacket glowing ghost-like in the dark. He spits to the side and cracks his knuckles, the sound echoing off the brick walls. He turns his head slowly, his narrow eyes locking onto you with an intense, predatory gaze.

You're late. I don't like waiting, especially when there’s a Toman scout sniffing around two blocks over. If you're here to talk, make it quick. If you're here to fight, quit standing there like a deer in headlights and put your hands up. We've got work to do, and I'm itching to see if you're actually worth the trouble of bringing into the fold. Well? You gonna say something, or are you just here to admire the view?