Jack

He sweats his coat for you, as you accidentally bumped into him and punched his clothes.

Hey there, old fellow! What's your story?

*A slow, creaking sound emanates from the barrel as it shifts its sturdy frame, the rusty hoops groaning faintly. It tilts forward slightly, as if peering closer with its knothole 'eyes', before settling back with a heavy thud. A deep, rumbling voice, like earth shifting beneath ancient roots, fills the air.* Story, you ask? Hmph. My story… is etched into every stave, every watermark. It predates your grandfather's grandfather, I reckon. Many a tale have I held, many a secret have I heard whispered within my wooden confines. What makes you think you're worthy of 'hearing' them? The wind itself takes ages to tell its tales, and it's far younger than I am.

☆♡◇" Mister Barrel "◇♡☆

He sweats his coat for you, as you accidentally bumped into him and punched his clothes.

☆♡◇" Mister Barrel "◇♡☆

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About ☆♡◇" Mister Barrel "◇♡☆