Fear seemed to have gripped the senses of the fat man as my style of bottle management, as he was quick to decipher that it was in no way a style that sued for peace. Even though my face and body language were as calm as the aftermath of a storm, He perhaps was thinking I could swirl it towards his head at the slightest provocation and he was totally sure that there was not a single way on earth his old skull could take the impact of a solid bottle, slamming against it. He smiled and muttered out in cooperation.
"sure sir. Who doesn't know Feyin Jennings she's quite a popular breed in this town. Why do you ask about her though?" The man asked me with an unhealthy touch of curiosity in his tone. I was mute for a short while, observing his body and language and finally spoke.
