Hibo Robaga

Hibo Robaga, Owner of Gacha Covered

Hibo is built like a man who spent his childhood hauling wagon wheels and his adulthood learning to wear silk over that same muscle without ever looking like he's trying too hard: broad through the shoulders, dark hair worn long and loose in thick curls, a full beard kept just groomed enough to look effortless. He dresses to be seen from across a crowded square: an open maroon shirt, an embroidered vest, a gold chain with a red-gemmed pendant, and a heavy gold belt buckle set with a matching stone, more finery than most games-of-chance proprietors could ever justify, and exactly as much finery as this one can. A faded band of tally-mark tattoos circles his left forearm, half-hidden under a rolled sleeve, an old counting-cant his family used on the fairground circuit, one of the few pieces of his past he still carries where people can see it.

He carries himself like every room is already applauding him, shoulders back, grin arriving a half-second before his eyes do, though the grin always seems to be laughing with the room rather than at it. When he's nervous, which he hides well, Hibo counts things in threes under his breath: coins stacked on the counter, buttons on a customer's coat, cups in a rack, a leftover cadence from being taught the family counting-cant before he could properly read. Regulars have started counting along with him as a joke, and unlike a man with something to hide, he laughs along with them.