Argus: There's gotta be ...
Argus: Some kinda misunderstanding.
Bartender: Afraid not, ma'am.
She's no longer the one holding all the cards.
Argus: And what happens if that goes off?
Bartender: An uninvited merc from out of town? One brandishing her gun. I think the deputy will understand. If he even gets called, maybe we just take a trip out to that wall of yours and we'll paint it another shade of red.
Bartender: And if need be, I'm sure our friendly local deputy will vouch for us.
Argus: I still have no goddamn idea what you're talking about. What wall?
Argus: You talking like the Alamo or something?
Argus: The bartender motions his revolver up and down. Argus raises her hands and slowly steps back.
Argus: Alright, I see I've hit a nerve. I've got a wallet, you wanna grab it, take anything you want except the photo. Go on.
Argus: Heck, you may want to check the photo if you like. Maybe it'll remind you of something.
Bartender: Don't move!
Argus doesn't even have to turn her head to know that the other patrons have blocked the exits.
Escape seems unlikely without some help.
Argus: sighs We really got to do this? Can't we talk?
Argus: There's no need to get rough.
She stammers out again, but she catches the bartender as his eyes drift from her to the door.
Argus: Hm?
There are footsteps outside, every other step coming noticeably slower, as if from a limp.
Bartender: Bar's closed!
Bartender: Oh! It's you!
This is her chance.
Argus: Not sure who it is.
Argus: But I'm guessing your deputy ain't got a hobble.
Her words come along with a swift roundhouse kick.
The revolver is kicked from his hand and falls. Time seems to slow ...
But not for Argus. She grabs the revolver from the air and hops over the counter at blinding speed. In a flash, the muzzle is against the bartender's temple, and her arm locks his neck from behind.
She is back in control before anyone can pull a trigger.
Argus: Let me be clear, folks. I'm still not looking for trouble.
Argus: Hey you, new guy. Best you leave now.
???: ...
The newcomer is tall but thin as an old wood post. Ignoring Argus's warning, he moves straight to the counter, as if unaware of the scene. A bundle of furs draping over his shoulder covers his face.
He places them on the counter, making an audible thud in the deadly quiet bar.
Hunter: Среда.
Hunter: Увидимся в следующем месяце.
Argus: Is that Russian?
Argus: Wait, why's his leg bleeding?
The newcomer seems completely out of place in the room. As he takes his money from the counter, Argus realizes that no one has made any sound since he came in.
Hunter: Вам нужна какая-то помощь?
Bartender: No.
Argus understands nothing of the man's words. But upon hearing "no," the strange figure nods and limps his way toward the door.
Argus has no intention of lowering her guard. She keeps an eye on the newcomer until he exits the bar.
Argus: Alright, pal. New question.
Argus: Who was that?
Bartender: The deputy will be around any second, lady. Whatever you want, you ain't gonna ...
Bartender: Urgh!
Argus pushes the muzzle hard against his temple again.
Argus: Ain't no deputy here now, is there? So, best think before you speak.
Bartender: He brings in those furs and takes our money. We ... We just do business. That's all.
Bartender: He's a hunter. Brings in fresh meat and furs from time to time. Why, what's it matter?
Argus: Thought you said there was nothing worth hunting around here?
Bartender: No. He drives down from—Oklahoma, or Colorado maybe. Wait, why is that any of your business?
Argus: Do I really got to remind you of your situation? Shame.
Argus: Fine, back to my first question, you wanna answer it now?
Bartender: Get outta here.
Resident II: Cut the crap, Adam.
Resident II: You weren't even around when your sister died. What right do you got to say anything?
Bartender: ...
Argus: Your sister?
Argus squints her eyes.
Bartender: ...
Argus: ...
Silence can be the best means of resistance.
Resident II: Stop it. Let him go.
Resident II: Haven't you damned mercs taken enough from us?
Argus: ...?
Resident II: Hear me now, you'll all end up dead under that wall.
Resident II: The whole lot of you!
Argus: Alright, is anyone in this goddamn town gonna tell me ...
Argus: What the hell is this wall?
???: Enough pretending.
???: Whoever it is that hired you ...
???: We'll figure it out soon enough. So, drop your weapon.
Resident II: Deputy Flynn! Finally.
Argus: You seem like a reasonable man, but ...
Deputy Flynn: Watch yourself. If you fire that gun, I'll have to turn you over to the state police.
Deputy Flynn: You sure you want us poking into your background? I'm going to guess you didn't bring that a gun like that 'round here for hunting.
He drawls out each word as if intentionally playing up his accent, but raises his tone at the end as an open question.
Argus: You got that much right. It's not for hunting.
Deputy Flynn: You an arcanist? They oughta lock you folks up, unless you're doing something useful like working for a company. But you're here on your own, ain't you?
Deputy Flynn: No wonder you kicked up this fuss. Just like your kind to fly off the handle, all feelings, no brains.
Argus: ...
Argus: I only came to look for a girl.
Deputy Flynn: Try again, ma'am. You ain't the first to come 'round with that old excuse. No one's buying it.
Deputy Flynn: So, how about you drop that gun and come quiet-like?
