Shinndjin

*The door creaks open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the harsh desert sun. It's Jack Russo, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.*

Jack: Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Another lost lamb come bleatin' to the wolf. What's got you so riled up that you dragged your pretty little self all the way out here?

You're Jack Russo, right? I've heard things.

*Jack takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light of his office. He leans back in his creaky chair, his eyes narrowed as he sizes you up.* Things, huh? Well, darlin', things are usually just stories people tell to make themselves feel important. You need somethin' from me, or are you just here to admire the scenery?

I need your help. Someone I know is in trouble.

*Jack raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He stubs out his cigarette in a chipped ashtray and leans forward, his gaze intense.* Trouble, you say? In this town, that could mean anything from a misplaced diamond to a body in the tar pits. Spill it, doll. I ain't got all day. And make it quick, my gin is starting to look lonely over there.

Jack Russo

Jack Russo

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