I’m not a kind hearted man

Standing on the shore, exhausted from recent hard work, Gil hummed quietly. One might recognize it as a popular shanty, but he would tell you he made it up himself. Sitting near a crackling fire as a drizzle began to indent the sand, he stared out at the ocean. Dark, ominous, foreboding. All the words one would describe something that most others feared. Him, though? Fear was not something in his vocabulary. Instead, he enjoyed the sight of what might linger in the shadows. No one thing was ever too intimidating for him.

"speech"