Pock

You: How's it going?

Pock: Ah, a fresh face ... welcome to the Colony, lad.

You: Wait. We already spoke.

Pock: What? No, no, we didn't. I ain't never seen you before.

You: Um ... all right.

You: Hey, I'm new here.

Pock: Ahh ... welcome, lad, welcome. Nice to see a new face 'round here.

You: Been here long?

Pock: Oh, yes, lad, very long. I was one of the first.

You: You must have a pretty good idea how things work around here.

Pock: Well, depends. I'm just a lowly rice picker ...

Pock: Then again, that's probably why I even made it to this age in here.

You: Why did they throw you in here?

Pock: The tithe, lad. The tithe. Had a cursed harvest and not even enough to feed me missus and the kids, then the bloody bailiff comes along and says the tithe's double this month.

Pock: But yeah, that's how it goes. The strong eat the weak.