Davy had by then raised his sword, pointed at Rinoa. He wasn't a happy camper and somehow without the tentacles and pirate garb he was so used to wearing, he was still a large intimidating figure.
"I don't know any ...Rinoa" He drawled, his Scottish accent helping him spit out her name. He marched towards her, his hobble still evident by the wooden peg leg he had refused to give up in lieu of a modern plastic leg. "And I don't know any Sarah or Charlie." He lied, almost beginning to enjoy this introduction to the girl.