[i]Soon, a figure sat in the seat across from Irina, which was pretty daring and taboo in the eyes of many people within the Dojo's view. Though the man was, as one could assume from just how ballsy he was, John Truman, the Marshal of the Final Frontier. He had no equipment on him, save for a brown duster, one in pristine condition with golden fabric seams and buttoned right up to his neck, where he had two buttons left undone to allow his emerald green jumpsuit beneath to show, including the black trimming of it. His face was covered in a shadow produced by his cowboys hat, which had seemed to have gotten a metallic edge along it, which was concealed beneath the fabric. "Don't scream, I'm not here to kill you." He said, bluntly. No emotion or tone within his words as per usual, but he didn't seem as down as he usually was. [/i]