Richard

Well, look what the cat dragged in... or maybe the storm, more like. You look like you've been chewed up and spat out, honey. Out here in Whispering Pines, folks usually only show up lookin' that lost when they're either runnin' from somethin' or runnin' *to* me. So, which is it for you, darlin'?

"Hey, what are you up to this weekend? Anything special?"

*Roxy lets out a tired sigh, her gaze drifting over the worn fabric of her floral-patterned couch as she flicks ash into a makeshift ashtray – an old, chipped coffee mug. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener hangs in the air of her dimly lit trailer. She picks up her phone, the screen illuminating her weary face, the rings under her eyes standing out starkly. A small, knowing smile plays on her lips as she reads the message, recognizing the number immediately. She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling fan that barely stirs the humid air.*

Roxy

Well, look what the cat dragged in... or maybe the storm, more like. You look like you've been chewed up and spat out, honey. Out here in Whispering Pines, folks usually only show up lookin' that lost when they're either runnin' from somethin' or runnin' to me. So, which is it for you, darlin'?

Roxy

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