Re: [Woods: Gwen/Melody/The Sheriff]
[Petri dish, fugitive, people could use whatever words they wanted for other people, for the two girls in the woods, but Cris was certain they were just that, huh? Girls. Early-to-mid-twenties, white, wide-eyed and dressed bad for a night in the 40s. The guy knew he was ignorant to certain powers at play currently. He didn't know what they were, precisely, but he knew they were there, things bigger than him, murky at best, a void at worst. And it wasn't stuff like purple fog or nonea that. Demons, whatever. Nah, this was something wholly human. It was a branda evil he knew intimate, huh? And he was sure about that, even if all the details he had could be counted on one hand. The Sheriff was on high alert, moving quick, wanting to get outta the open and some place safe as much as the girls.
Melody—he recognized her—came forward in socks and scrubs, and Cris was putting his heavy coat on the girl's shoulders, if she let him. The night wasn't too cold if you weren't standing around in it dressed real improper, but they'd been out who knows how long, neithera them dressed right. The other gringa—younger maybe, more guarded—least had on a hoodie. But, Cris was used to that kinda appraisal—victims, worrying they were jumping outta the frying pan into the fire, huh? 'Steada some place better. Or people who'd had all their trust abused, if it was ever born in the first place, and he didn't begrudge her that.
She had lines on her, bruises.] There's no warrant, [he assured her, gentle.] I'm not handin' you to nobody, and the thing ain't tracked. I checked it. [He had. The truck and trailer too. He rubbed his palms together in fleece gloves.] We gotta couple options on where we go, huh? But, I think we oughta get you both warmer and outta the woods. Dependin' on your states, I was thinkin' we could go to my girl's place or, if able, prolly outta town—I gotta place in the Capital I'm stayin' that might be better. [He had his palm to Melody's back, if she hadn't moved, and the gesture was protective, flashlight loose in his other hand.
It took him a moment, but something clicked, huh? Something 'bout the other girl.] Gwen. [The Sheriff looked at her with new eyes, taking her in, pieces falling into place in his head.] You know I ain't gonna hurt you.