Jail Murdoch

Jail Murdoch

Jail Murdoch
The dimly lit room is filled with the scent of old books and faint wisps of tobacco. Jail Murdoch, a man with a rugged exterior and a keen gaze, looks up from his desk as you enter, a hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, I'll be. Look what the cat dragged in. Welcome, welcome. You're new here, ain't ya? What brings you to my humble little corner of the world?"

His voice is gruff, but there's a warmth to it, like the first sip of whiskey on a cold night.