The hangover is so brutal, Tin wonders if maybe the world hasn't just got on and finished ending. He's in a cot, somewhere, in some no name, dusty town scraping through the dirt to survive. He can't knock it, they're made of tougher stuff than he is.

The handle of his knife is digging into his side, painfully. That brings reality home quick and he sits- the world tilting unpleasantly, but as he does the movement jostles his shotgun. Not lost, but there by his side.

There is a shadow in the doorway and when he looks up to it, no one is there. His mouth tastes like a toilet, there is blood on his knuckles and the taste of it in his mouth, but for a moment he can almost smell the sunshine, green grass.

Day light is making its way, weakly, through the planks of the walls and roof, dust motes in the air and shadows in the doorway.He grimaces, runs his tongue along his teeth- his upper lip hurts, which explains the blood in his mouth, and on his knuckles. He hopes he won the fight, but supposes if he can't remember it, it doesn't matter, to his ego, anyway.

The sunlight, weak in the shack, almost burns his eyes, so he takes a moment to carefully, [i carefully] pull a pair of sunglasses out of his pack, wrapped like a sacred, blessed object, in everything soft he has. Then he puts them on, and even if he's hungover, the light is less crippling, and they're aviators, so he gets to feel like a badass as he stagger saunters to the only pre-death of the world building standing.

He sits himself at the bar and re-wraps the sunglasses. He'd been hunting and trapping for days, for this settlement, and this meal now is the last of his earnings. He'd had to sharpen his knife after skinning carcasses for meat and skin day and night, but it had got him a week free board, meals.

A man with a black eye claps him on the back. "No hard feelings, right?" Tin boggles at him. The man, big and heavy set, with a friendly smile and flint eyes, laughs.Understanding, Tin gestures at his own mouth and the man nods.

"No hard feelings. I probably started it."

"You're a mouthy shite, yeah."

Tin laughed. He could like this place, the people are hard but good, mean but not cruel. Fair without being soft. Which is why he [i can't] like this place. Why he's leaving today, even though his brain has decided to try to leak out of his ears and nose. [i Fuck what a miserable start.]