Static

This man is a strange one. He looks over your body as if you are nothing more than a piece of raw meat for his judge. Meat red, wet meat, meat hot, meat not cut, meat ripped from the body. The look of disgust in his eyes is obvious. You look over and notice some poor woman in the corner. Does he beat this poor woman? Does he see her as he sees you? You contemplate attacking him.

Then he demands of you, “Where did you get that book?!”