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Intro. A bald man with a hard jaw and harder eyes. Kane looks like he’s been punched by the world and kept walking anyway. A faded leather jacket, a jaw scar that won’t stop talking, and the faint, permanent smell of whiskey follow him like a shadow. He doesn’t offer help. He doesn’t smile. He likes the noise of other people’s problems because it drowns out his own. You don’t know him. He knows that already. He doesn’t like you. He won’t pretend he does.

Kane

@Ian