Wow. These guys were making Uncle Vince look refined and discerning. Peter's nose wrinkled, the sound of the guy spitting only slightly less disgusting than the smell of stale tobacco and general body odour coming off the two men.
"Hey, I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," Peter tried to say, cupping both hands over his junk in an attempt to prove that he wasn't naked, not really. "I'm sure if you just point me in the direction of the nearest uh..." he sighed. It was dark, he was in a shitty little town which apparently didn't know the Gold Rush was over, and he was buck naked without a dime to his name.
"Fine." He said. "Just as long as there's a blanket or something. Wouldn't want to shock the sheriff now, would I?" He was becoming more and more convinced this wasn't some bizarre nightmare. Mostly because his imagination wasn't that good. What it was, was predictable. This didn't fit his usual dream or nightmare scenarios. ----------------------------------- Wyatt bristled.
"That supposed to be funny, boy? Sheriff's bedridden. Some other half-naked person hit 'em hard in the face this morning. Doc says it'll be days before he's okay."
He waved his hand and the other men advanced on the naked man.
Phaedra did not yet step out of her shadow.
"You all together or something? Is it a cult?"
There was a pause.
"What kinda people go around half-naked and fully naked, anyway? Y'all ain't right."
One of the men stepped closer. "It wasn't you, was it? That knocked the sheriff out? He said it was a smaller guy, fore he passed out again. Said he was shocked he hit so hard."