Jacob found himself immediately disliking this walker, whose arrogant demeanor rubbed him the wrong way. He knew the type well, for he had seen them before, even in his out of the way settlement. Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted the barkeepâ€™s daughters starting to move. One darted up the stairs while the other ran outside to ring the bell; this sort of thing happened every so often in Shabby Town, and the girls knew what to do. And though Jacob wasnâ€™t part of their guard, he knew what to do as well.<br/><br/>As the walker shoved past him in typical cocksure fashion, Jacob used the momentum to spin around naturally, and with a single motion as subtle as it was swift, he drew his sharpened trench knife and hooked it around so that he held it against the strangerâ€™s throat. The bell rang from outside.<br/><br/>â€œA couple things, walker, so stay still,â€ he began, his voice low and cold. â€œFirst, for someone who clearly thinks so highly of his survival traits, you leave your back open to threats far too readily. Second, these are good people just trying to survive and scrape something together to call a life. They donâ€™t need cocky strangers coming in, starting fights, and getting people shot. If they came for you, then they probably had a good reason. Your life is not worth more than theirs.â€ He heard some distant shouts. â€œNow, weâ€™re going to stand here until the rest of the guards arrive. Then, weâ€™ll all have a nice chat about whether they get to shoot you or not.â€