"Stopping in a town that doesn't even have one horse is always a good time," he quipped. He knocked back the drink he'd just gotten.
His accent was almost as noticeable as Lindsey's, but only came out with certain words. And technically, Dean knew, if you went far enough west in PA, you hit accents that were a little country.
He thought about how best to answer, though. He'd told a girl a while back that he was working in auto salvage, but he hadn't seen her in a while. The undertaker that thought he was a fed was dead.
"Extended hunting trip," Dean said. He locked eyes with the guy, unwavering. It wasn't a lie.
"D'you go to that whacked ass fair at all, man?" he asked, nodding at the bartender for another. Dean whistled. This would be a great way to find out what this guy was really about.
Behind the bar, the bartender turned on highlights from tonight's high school football game. This town was all about its Friday night lights, Dean could see. College too, from the look of the bar, with its college colors and game schedules on the wall.