http://imgur.com/T3zJ26V The Man strides broadly into a Centran saloon, his AIMC poly-carbon suit on and the mechanical Undhime sword at his waist. Everyone stops their conversations to turn their attention to the intimidating figure, who takes a seat on a stool at the bar. The bartender looks shaken, if not a little frightened, at the armored man. "Shirley Temple, hard and on the rocks. Extra cherries." The Man makes his order to the bartender in a deep, young, and cheesily menacing voice. The bartender nods his head quickly and darts off to fix the drink. With a narrow-eyed side glance to the silent audience of customers, The Man seems to switch the hum of conversation back on with his piercing blue eyes. He turns his head back to the bar counter as his Shirley Temple is placed in front of him. He takes a sip. (([b][i]Open[/i][/b]))