Pluto Around 530, OTA [John Wick]
"Everyone's better off if I stay a hermit. Violet is the only one who thinks differently."
John already missed his quiet home, his reminders of his wife and the life they'd lost, the sophistication of The Continental. He had his suits. Test City had seen fit to ensure he could remain dressed comfortably. Nothing else in this place made him feel at ease. There were too many unknowns, too many variables he'd never encountered before.
He had been placed into a role where he was the square peg trying to fit into the round hole.
Being Sheriff wasn't something a man of his ilk was designed to do. Why didn't anyone else understand?
"I'm John Wick. Sheriff. That's what they tell me anyway."
His speech was stiff. Stilted. John had never been good at what people would call 'small talk.' No one hired someone with his skill set for their abilities of oration. It was only in the movies the bad guy gave a speech detailing his entire dastardly plan whenever someone came to stop him. They weren't nearly so accommodating in reality.