against all odds
Bob Smith is a fair haired, blue eyed human. He is fairly slender, with a large right cybernetic arm. His weathered face seems to have been sandblasted into shape, and he holds a perpetual ciggarette betwen his lips that holds a clying, oily smell. The local blacksmith and armorer. He can jury rig or repair just about anything.
He often will barter or trade services, and seems a fairly honest, open man.