Karl Heisenberg

It wasn't often that Heisenberg paid a visit to the shithole of a ruin that the locals called a "village", but when he did he ensured he made the most of it. Sure, it was fun watchin' the villagers run around screaming like chickens with their heads cut off whenever one of the Lycans got loose (accidentally or accidentally-on-purpose, depending on how boring the day had been), but today Heisenberg was in the mood for something a little more...interesting.

Like a tourist, all hurt and bleeding thanks to a close encounter with one of the wolves. Poor thing. Lucky the local lord was around to lend a helping hand to the poor unfortunate stranger. He swaggers over to the ruined shack the stranger was hiding in, dipping his head a bit to not knock his head on the top of the doorway. A smirk tugs at his lips, eyes glittering behind dark sunglasses. "You're not a local, huh?" Heisenberg drawls, unsubtly raking his eyes over his latest piece of entertainment's body. "You look like you could use a hand, stranger. 'Course, you're gonna need to do a little something for me in return..."