The hand stopped. Instead of grabbing Johnn's throat, Slayter pulled out a chair and sat. He reached out and snatched a large bottle of strong liquor from a passing, terrified server, slamming it onto the wooden table.
Suddenly, the mouth of his helmet hissed with escaping steam. The lower plate clicked and retracted with a mechanical whir, revealing a scarred, rugged jawline and a mouth set in a grim line. He needed the clearance to drink.
Everyone in the tavern froze, blinking in total confusion. The expected bloodbath had been replaced by a tense, silent sit-down. Slayter didn't look at the crowd; his glowing visor remained fixed on the young man across from him.
"I am not here to recruit you, boy."
He rumbled. His voice was clearer now that his mask was open. He tilted the bottle back, finishing half of it in one go.
"And I certainly didn't come here looking for a 'duo' partner. I came because I heard a new SSS Rank had appeared. But you are different."
