Ozbadin
"Nuthin' really mister. Ain't got much of anything that belongs to me."
The boy slumps his head again at Ozbadin's harsh tone, but otherwise obediently follows Ozbadin to the Gold Goblin, where a number of the staff are sharing a few drinks.
Search Posts
Ozbadin The boy looks up at Ozbadin with big saucer-eyes. "Sir? You'd do that for me? I'd do pretty much anything. I'm a hard worker, I assure you. You won't regret hiring me. What sorta work do you do, Mister...uh Mister Ozbadin...sir?" The boy more confidently looks at Ozbadin, perhaps evaluating him and his proposition. As he raises his head, Ozbadin gets a better look at his face; the beginnings of scraggly facial hair push their way through the youth's chin. He can't be much older than 13 or 14, Ozbadin surmises.
Ozbadin The boy shifts slowly, rising as Ozbadin addresses him, keeping his head low. “My name’s…Brandy. Least that’s what my pa always called me. A’fore he died, anyway.” He gathers up his sad little jar and begins to head on his way. “Sorry mister, I didn’t mean no trouble. I’ll just head back to the mission. See if there’s enough for me ta eat today.” Despite his claim, Brandy doesn’t seem malnourished, and his arms and legs are solid enough. He is covered in scars all over his body, from what you can see, so he’s not particularly pretty to look at, but he would do fine as a labourer, you surmise. |