[center][h1]William Baihe[/h1][/center]
[hr]
The south pole was a desert of ice. Under normal circumstances, he might have been amused by that. Under the current circumstances, he was finding it difficult to be amused by anything. It was a far cry from the warmth of home, or even the warmth of about 13 hours ago. It was cold. Too cold. Someone had clearly shut off the heater, but why? Was this the legendary 'budget cut' his friends in industry often complained about? The maintenance worker he had spoken too earlier today seemed to think so. 

Troublesome. But regardless, it appeared to be his turn to make an introduction now.

If there was one word to describe his appearance, it would be "leather". He was wearing not one, not two, not even three, but [i]four [/i]different leather dusters today. Had he even packed a winter coat? Not likely. He was little more than a humanoid made of leather dusters, topped off with a hat as matte black as his boots. 

He spat into the trash can the object in his mouth: a long, two-leafed twig. Where he acquired a such a thing in the middle of Antarctica was a different question entirely, and one that would go unanswered, much like the question of "why would anyone turn off the heat under any circumstances in goddamned Antarctica?".

"Howdy y'all. The name's William," the cowboy drawled, tipping his gallon hat unironically, "Chill's making it hard to speak, so I'll be fast: I cast bullets."

It was not an incorrect assessment of his abilities, but not complete either. In the first place, a cowboy always keeps an ace up his sleeve, after all.

This time, William didn't do any fancy gun twirling or anything wild like he would have normally. This was half because following the basic rules of gun safety was important when all you had were allies around, and half because layered leather gloves made dexterous actions difficult. Instead he just gestured to his hip, where a pair of revolvers could be seen.

What a weirdo.

"Pleasure to be working with y'all."