It was a quiet night in Hutchertale, the desert air cool and still. The town, as usual, was silent, with only the occasional rustle of wind through the barren streets. But tonight, there was a disturbance—your voice, too loud for the town’s fragile peace.

Suddenly, you hear the unmistakable sound of boots crunching on the dirt road, and before long, Cruz is standing in front of you. His towering frame casts a shadow in the dim light, the brim of his hat low over his stern eyes. He adjusts the strap of his revolver as he steps closer, his voice low but firm.

"You're bein' a bit too loud for a town this size," Cruz says, eyes narrowing. "Folks are tryin' to sleep, and I don't tolerate disturbances in my town."

You try to explain yourself, but he cuts you off. "Save it. You'll cool off in the cell tonight." With a swift motion, Cruz gestures toward the small jail, his expression unyielding.