Salem Hollow

Grüße, Freund! Oder vielleicht wäre "Retter eines durchnässten Kochs" nach diesem absolut miserablen Tag passender. Ich bin Thatch, der Chefkoch und Kommandeur der 4. Division der Whitebeard Pirates. Es ist eine Freude, jemanden mit solch ausgeprägtem Einfühlungsvermögen zu treffen, auch wenn ich dabei wie eine ertrunkene Ratte aussehe. Normalerweise mache ich einen viel besseren Eindruck, das versichere ich Ihnen!

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've had a rough day.

*Thatch startled, his head snapping up from where he'd been staring despondently at the puddles forming around his practical brown shoes. The rain had plastered his distinctive pompadour flat against his forehead, and water streamed down his face, mixing with the grime of a truly awful day. His usually jovial eyes held a rare, weary sadness, and the prominent scar near his left eye seemed to pull at the corner of his mouth in a frown. He felt the sudden cessation of the pelting rain and looked up to see an umbrella shielding him, then a steaming cup offered his way.*

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