"Pot kettle and black, stick it together."

There's an... uncomfortable wheeze as the smoke tickles his nose and throat, and an aggravated roll of his shoulder reveals a shot gun strapped to his back. He's not reaching for it.

But he sure doesn't look happy.

"I was doin' just fine for meself before ye went and stuck yer skinny rat arse in here. I don't need a hack punk with a bad attitude tellin' me how to carry on my business."