Would I lie to you? [open]

Evening darkened over the Carnival City of San Faldo. Yet the festivities only flared stronger, lighting the streets with life and lovely colors. Laughter echoed over the marketplaces. Some ways down the main street, there was a small, but lively little tavern. The sign named the place as Boris’ Barrel. Inside, it had simplistic wooden décor and few tables, much like one would expect from a small bar. Behind the counter worked a balding man. Stocky, blocky and big, he looked like something carved from a tree with an axe. With a barrel chest and biceps like kegs, the mere sight of him made potential troublemakers think twice before disturbing his tavern.

However, when the little bell above the door chimed, even the intimidating man donned the widest, friendliest smile. His booming voice filled the room. "Ah, a nev face! Velcome, Velcome! Take a seat and let Boris knov vhat you like!" The new face in question was rather disheveled. Dressed in a dusty, brown suit, the lanky man dragged along a heavy suitcase. The bags under his eyes begged a question when he had last slept. He shambled in and barely managed to get to an open seat before slouching onto the counter. The barkeep leaned over the miserable fellow, scratching his mighty chin pensively. "Hrm, my friend, you do not look so good. Hov is life?" He was just a pat on the back away from accidentally squishing the twig of a man with his presence.

After an expectant, awkward silence, a raspy voice of a lifetime smoker finally responded. "...I’d rather talk about anything else, see?" Despite being a half-hearted grumble against the wooden surface, the answer was apparently satisfactory enough for the barkeep. Or maybe the burly man had learned not to pry. In this city many wore a mask, carnival and otherwise. So he simply nodded with an understanding hum and grabbed an empty pint. Golden nectar flowed in, crowned by fine foam. An expert push sent it sliding along the counter until it bumped against the visitor. "First one is on the house, friend. Tell Boris vhen you vant more. Also have good food for hungry traveler." Bony fingers curled around the handle and the tired voice muttered something akin to a polite thank you.

In all honesty, Richard Maxwell, often known as Plague Rat as well, had seen better days. His trip to Alabasta had been, well, something of an utter disaster. Cipher Pol agents, Revolutionaries and even one former Yonko... It was nothing short of pure a miracle that he still drew breath. Not for the lack of trying, mind you. As soon as he had managed to squirm free from the whole deal, he had gotten as far away from that nightmare trap as possible. Creeping paranoia had kept him awake for several nights in a row. Only now that he was mostly sure that no one was pursuing him, he could afford to relax just the tiniest bit. Maybe stretch his legs and flex his fingers again...Yeah... That sounded nice.

Richard took a swig, savoring the first decent drink in a week. Not to mention free. One of his favorite words. Now he was only missing some affordable food and good company. Luckily, one didn’t need to wait the latter for long in this city. Already a friendly voice addressed him, asking for a story. A dry laugh left his lips. "Chi chi chi... I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint. It’s not much of an interesting story, actually." Of course he lied, as was in his nature. And even if he had told the truth, who would’ve ever believed him?

While the crook took another sip, his glance drifted sideways, finding a pleasant surprise, the sight of an expensive suit. Well now, this fellow looked like a wealthy... client. Upon spotting the deviously grinning mask, however, the criminal was startled stiff. He nearly slipped off his seat before managing to regain his wits. Right, this one didn’t have an animal theme. Nothing to get skittish over. It was just a local custom, see? ...That in mind, perhaps San Faldo hadn’t been the best choice of destinations after all. In Alabasta he had met enough masked mystery figures to last a lifetime.

The sudden nervousness was quickly covered behind an apologetic smile, as if the older gentleman had merely been struck by a realization. "Ah, but where are my manners? I didn’t even introduce myself." He offered a polite yet firm handshake to go with the lie that oh so naturally slipped through his teeth. Even if the stranger didn’t accept it, he would’ve continued without missing a beat. "Cutty Flam, but you can call me Franky. All my friends do." On each and every island he had a different identity, a different mask to hide his intentions. But a rat by any name was still a rat all the same...