The starfish that Winston was talking to once he approached the group of hunters, was of old age. The old man belonged to a species of starfish called Seven-armed Blue Starfish, which was a rather formal, and self-explanatory name.
Considering that the hunting group consisted of starfish that were mostly of that species, Winston was sure that he was about to be rejected. Like most species, people wanted to work with their own kind, with faces they could recognize, which was understandable, but in this case, it didn't fail to escalate the situation.
"You're good with guns, eh?" The old man asked. "My old pop pop raised me to be honest, so I will speak my mind, boy. I haven't seen many, if any, Worker Starfish who were good with a darn gun, it's an odd thought, so for the life of me, I can't understand why you approached me, and expected me to… what's the new saying? Cooperate?"
"Oh?" He grunted, unsure of himself. "So you mistook my approach as threatening? That's normal around here, I guess, but believe me, I don't have the firepower to threaten you."
Winston didn't know how to approach this situation now, so he lied here and there, in order to calm the waters. The truth was that he did have the firepower to threaten them, or at least litter a few grenades across the ground if the situation became hostile, but he didn't want to do that, as he was sure that he'd die in the exchange of fire, so he tried to keep cool, and negotiate. At the very least, he wanted to leave this situation unharmed, even if he couldn't join these hunters.
For that matter, he insisted, "Let me say it again, I'm not threatening you. I am in fact good with a gun, despite being a Worker Starfish, and I want to hunt with you, not against you. I even took a barracuda down myself, once, so imagine how much more we can earn if we worked together."
"Well, bite my leg and call me flippy! You sure know how to be pushy!" The old man shouted, and at this point, it was apparent that he was angry, and had skipped right past irritation. "I cannae trust what my gut is barking at, you're no gunman, boy, you'd be dead weight! I don't care what yer mumbling about, I cannae feed ya."
"Well, shit, his accent's getting thicker. That's not good." He thought. "I might as well cut my losses here."
Winston paused for a moment, as he didn't want to push his luck any further, and then said, "I hear you loud and clear, sir. I'll just take my leave, and I apologize for bothering you."
At this point he noticed that at least half of the hunters had been listening in to the conversation, and they were not happy either. One wrong move, and he'd become target practice for starfish who were just looking for reasons to shoot at someone of a different species. He had to back down.
"I'll leave you be," He spoke softly, as he walked backwards, showing his empty hands.
Thankfully, the group of hunters didn't attack him. The old man did not utter another word, and just kept a frown on his wrinkled, blue face as he watched Winston back away.
At some point they stopped focusing on him, and continued to haul that dead barracuda across the city. Winston was free to do whatever he pleased, or at this point, he was free to live, as he had left that escalated situation without any bullet holes in him. He felt lucky, though also irritated.
Once he was at a safe distance, he spoke to himself, "What a stupid, old bastard. I don't even care about money, I just wanted to hunt barracudas or some shit like that."
Down the line, that was a senseless situation for him to risk his life over, so he was happy that he escaped unscathed. He didn't plan on approaching those hunters for the second time, as that wouldn't either be smart or beneficial.
Winston tried to push that exchange to the back of his head, and continued exploring the city. He still stuck to his original goal, which was for him to find something to do with his free time, or his life in general. So far, it had been a difficult topic to decide on, but nonetheless, he kept looking for an answer.
After about an hour, he was still stuck. He wasn't spoiled with choices, but rather the opposite. This city seemed too calm in general, and there wasn't anything worth doing here, not at least in terms of where he'd end up with more system points. The only use of this city so far was that it proved perfect for camouflage, meaning that he could hide in the crowd easily, and no one would suspect that he used to be a slave. Other than that, this city was useless to him.
For that matter, he thought, "I wonder if I can push my luck out there, in the wild? If I travel far enough from the mines I used to work in, then no one would suspect me to be a 'slave on the run', so to speak. Am I right, system? I'd just be another starfish hunting in the reef."
[Conceptually, it is a good idea, except, most sentient creatures you'd run into would find it weird when they see you waving guns around. You're a Worker Starfish, and your species isn't exactly known for Weapons Magic. Even a sentient rock can put two and two together, and see you as a threat.]
He nodded, "Fair point, but it's not like hunters can arrest me in the wild. They might try to kill me, but hopefully I'd have bigger guns by then."
[Your plan is statistically unpredictable, but it's up to you.]
Winston took the system's concerns seriously, so he thought about this idea some more. He lacked viable options in terms of magical progress, but he didn't want to die either, so this was a tough decision to make.
While he thought things over, he eventually noticed that someone had been following him. This wasn't ideal, not at all, so he perked up, and tried to decide if he should summon his pistol. He wasn't the best at making fast decisions, but he had to make one now.