"As long as it is barley passable as food, I can pretend." Miles replied to the man. "Military rations? I can't believe you're in the military." He paused to choose his next words carefully. "They usually don't have such, colorful, people in the military." The bartender returned with what resembled a sandwich only in shape and a beer. Miles took a swig of beer and eyed the sandwich. Miles replied to the man's question of what type of metal worker he was. "Blacksmith is a good name for what I do." The man address Miles' suit. Miles brushed some dirt off his suit and smiled. "You know what they say. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. I'm looking to be the new ruler of this town."