Spyder hung back, slowing her pace.

“Explain to me again, Pookie. Why is it we’re going to talk to the sheriff?”

“Since we’re pretty much legit this time around, it doesn’t hurt to check in with the local law.” her partner said.

“Never did like talking to the law.” Spyder scowled. “It doesn’t ever seem to work out to my advantage. In fact, I usually end up in trouble.”

“That might be because you were usually in trouble before you talked to them.”

Pookie said, sweetly. “Look at it this way, little sister. From what we’ve heard this job is going to involve us working the countryside. That’s never been my favorite setting, since it’s invariably full of things that go squish when you step on them and bite you when you’re trying to sleep. If at all possible, I’d like to know what or who else will be out there with us. All we need is a bunch of trigger happy bounty hunters that let fly at anything that moves. The sheriff here should be able to tell us should be able to supply us with that information if we ask him nice. So smile pretty and let me take the lead again.”

The office they entered was small and cluttered, with empty wineskins and half-eaten plates of food scattered here and there. It was dominated, though, by the sheriff.

He was stocky with a noticeable bulge around his waist line, and outfitted in a wrinkled ranger uniform that looked like he slept in it. That suspicion was easily confirmed, by the fact that he was currently sitting behind his desk with his head down on his arms, snoring nasally.

Spyder looked at Pookie with her eyebrows raised. Her partner responded with a shrug and a roll of her eyes before clearing her throat.

“Um…Excuse me. Sheriff? Are you the sheriff?”

The man lurched upright, blinking dazedly. He did a slight double-take when he realized the nature of his company and wiped a grubby hand over his face and beard, forcing a smile.