(I'm starting to slow down on the beers, so that might be it. Regardless, thank you, man. You've been here since minute one. I appreciate it.)
As you leave the campsite, you remember your beans. They are still gripped by Charles' hand, uncovered by the blanket. You decide to relinquish him of his uneaten food, and carry on.
The man you have just met is a few steps behind you as you walk. You try to slow down so that he can catch up, but he seems to move even slower in response. You muster up the will to ask a question: "Say Feller," you begin. "Where was it you said you came from? I didn't see you approach before I shot that other feller, and then all of a sudden you appeared. You some kinda hoodoo man?"
The man laughs behind you, that same sick laugh that curdles your blood from the inside out. "I guess you could say that I'm prone to pop up when people least expect it. A hobby of mine, no doubt."
You, however stupid you may be, are not satisfied with that answer. "So, how'd you end up here 'bouts? We don't got no casinos here, so if you are lookin' fer werk, it's in short order 'ere."
The dealer chuckles lightly. Not lightly in the way one would imagine, as it still managed to sound pretty sinister. "Oh, I think I'll manage. Most times, people only need to play one game of mine before they get hooked."
You furrow your brow. Why is it getting so hard to fuckin' talk? You start thinkin' you might have a sore throat or somethin', but you manage to say, "What game are we playing? Poker? Black Jack? Go Fish?"
"All you have to do," the man starts. "Is pick a card. Easy enough?"
You're about to enter the town, and thus, your place o' business. Anything else to say?