A man walked up from the hangar, his hair was short, brown, and a little messy, he was wearing a pair of tattered brown cargo-pants, a faded t-shirt, it was gray, but was obviously a darker colour previously, over his shirt he was wearing an old, brown leather jacket, his boots were, as the rest of his attire, old and tattered, he had no visible weapons, his face indicating he was middle-aged. He had the oddest eyes, they were hazel, but occasionally a flash of neon green would pass across the retina, as if he had some kind of implantation done.
The man came up to the 'waiting room', looking around to find no seats that weren't covered in blood, or otherwise 'bad' to sit on, he sighed, and leaned against the wall, waiting to be called.
