Ved
[color=9e0b0f]"Fuck are you on about?"[/color]
He asked, looking at him oddly and shaking his head, then placing the two hand knives into their pouches on his belt. He slipped his hands into his flight jacket pockets, then pulled them out, this time sans the brass knuckles. He stomped his boot on the floor a bit, knocking the gore off of his boots.
[color=9e0b0f]"Names Ved."[/color]
He stated simply as he knelt down and tightened his 12 eye pair of ox blood doc martens. They were thick leather with steel roes, and he took better care of them then himself. Boot polish was easy to come by, as not many considered it an essential, and most had been left untouched by scavengers.