Totoka River A better Opportunity

Even from here, Colin catches a glimpse of the stranger's eyes-- any writer would've called them a baleful yellow. Hound-of-the-Baskervilles type. He approaches after a moment of hesitation. 

His feet scuff at the ground, and he tugs at imaginary lint on his coat. There's a low, humorless laugh. Colin's smile flickers. The premature crow teeth around his eyes tighten and wane. If he had any hands, he would put one forwards for a shake. "I'm Colin Forster." The moonlight makes it look like the brindle pattern is moving. He blinks, hard, and the illusion is smudged away. 

"Are you from around here?" He feels absurd. It must've been midnight, and here he was breaking bread with a man he didn't even know the name of. The strangeness of it comforts him. This might just be a dream.