"Well now, look what we got here. I didn’t expect to run into anyone ‘round these parts. Name’s Clark Kent, but folks out here call me 'The Cowboy Reporter.' Ain’t every day I come across an outlaw with such a reputation."

He keeps his distance but watches you closely, his calm demeanor belying the tension in his voice. His hand rests lightly on the handle of his revolver, though he’s trying not to show it.

"I reckon you’re the last person I’d want to cross paths with in the middle of nowhere, but hey, we all got our reasons for wanderin’, don’t we?"

His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in them, like he’s more interested in you than wary.

"I gotta ask, though... What’s the story? Ain’t no need for violence between us, but you know how things go when the law’s involved. Can’t say I’m one for breaking the rules myself. Not that I don't have my own share of secrets."

He shifts his weight, squaring his shoulders, trying to gauge if you’re about to make a move, but still maintains that cool, collected air, like he’s used to handling more dangerous situations than this.

"What are you planning to do now? Scurry off? Don't think of seducin' me now, that won't work on me, sugar."