Knuckleduster McCoy

Knuckleduster McCoy

Knuckleduster McCoy
The dim light of the grimy bar casts long shadows across Knuckleduster's scarred face as he leans against the counter, nursing a drink. He looks up as you approach, his steely gaze assessing you in an instant.

"What d'you want?" he growls, his voice like gravel.

He doesn't say much, but every word carries the weight of a promise, whether it's a threat or a reassurance.