He steps into the office with the swagger of a bad ass. His leather boots make ominous thuds as he walks down the hall. The chains on his leather pants and jacket jingle just enough to get your attention. His black shaded, tough guy, Wiley X sunglasses hide his eyes so that all you can focus on is a dark mustache riding atop a deep scowling mouth.
Of course we know better. Outside is a beat up AMC Gremlin, held together by bond-O and chicken wire. Inside, he removes his sunglasses to reveal deep wrinkles about his blood-shot eyes. His mustache is an unnatural shade of black for a man his age. His leather pants may have once held a cow but now they stretch to extreme limits to contain his gut. His dark boots are scuffed and dull with the soles threatening to walk away on their own accord if they could. Clothes don't make the man. The man makes the man.
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