Sebastian had made his way to New York City, from Philly, looking for a place to call home. He'd been searching for a while now. Sebastian had walked all the way, killing many people that he didn't want to kill. He felt that he had no choice, however, as he had to survive on his own.

Sebastian didn't have too many friends. He tried keeping himself to himself, but the streets was not so forgiving in this time, and neither was the people. Nobody had any time for anybody, and everybody was always in too much of a rush to help anyone, or even take the time to stop and talk with a lowly citizen of the United States. 

This never deterred Sebastian though. He kept going on. Through the rain, and the mighty wind of the road, Sebastian made his way to New York on foot. He wouldn't call himself a tough guy, but he knew how to survive. He knew that he needed to be tough, if he was going to continue to survive.

He made his way into the city, and found himself staying in this little tavern that had a free bed. He didn't have much in the way of money, but what he did have was enough to keep him going for a few days until he found some work. He didn't care if he had to go and work away on the boats. He just needed a job.

Just then, someone came up to him, as he sat by the bar downstairs from his room. This person had a glass of whiskey, and offered it to him. Sebastian didn't know who this person was, but they were showing him some form of kindness.

"I think you, sir. But what can I do for you?"