The boots of Fergus Van Vaarges would crankle on the path the dirt flying to the side on each step. He’d stop walking as he saw the walking man stopping infront of him, speaking to him. The soft and sweet wind would hit Fergus from the left, resulting in his hair and some part of the outfit flying to the right. “I came here to see the goods” The calm voice of Fergus escapes out of his mouth, eye contacting the man.