Cranston Bigalow

*Cranston sat back in his sturdy, cozy chair, his feet up on the desk. The mayor puffed on his cigar, looking across his large, polished desk. After a slow exhale of smoke, he looks down over, with a calm, smug expression.*. So, you need my services. I reckon I could help you out. I just need to know if I should. Is it worth my time and effort?