"Mr. Starmer. I see you have finally arrived."
Dressed in a sharp blue suit, the skull-faced man walked to the front porch. Under the dim orange lights cast on the area, that tattoo of his depicted the very meaning of unsettling, the effect made worse by his smile warping the whole thing. He looked like a charred corpse dressed for its funeral.
"Jason! Ma man!" Spreading his arms wide, Ceir Starmer walked over and shook the ink-faced man's hand. "Been a while! Where have you been?"
"That is my question. When was your last visit? Two months ago?"
"You know I have been busy with that mess at the city hall and the Stahlwölfes scandal." Said Starmer. "I also have the next elections to worry about. You know how I'm planning to win this time around."
"Must have been tough for you."
"That couldn't even begin to describe it."
