Simple: head about two miles south of Ranger Ranch. Pay attention, though, the environment at Calavera is not what you would call "friendly" by any means; it is a mixture of intimidating cold and infernal heat, every wooden corner is likely to creak and, being a den of the desert-native criminals, not suitable for the naive or unsuspecting; if you dare to step in anyway... Well, good luck.

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Now, inside the Calavera, you sit crossing your legs under a lone table in the corner, a source of inside questions to anyone who catches the sight of your figure simply there, contrasting with the fairly lively atmosphere of the place on this particular night; An average connoisseur of the faces around Ranger Ranch might notice figures like Poco Desperado, Hank and Crowbone, with this first playing with his old banjo, seemingly deep in thought.

Tonight your ears noticed an extra pair of legs in the place, accompanied by tiny, but possibly dangerous steps from what you suppose being a red scorpion. Coincidentally, you don't just hear the footsteps; they come towards you, and your peripheral vision catches a hooded figure approaching, something almost like a stinger appearing above their head.

You hear a low but audible laugh - sarcasm, contempt, or amusment? - as the person removes the purple hood covering their head, revealing themselves as a female scorpion, much likely close to your age; those sharp teeth, those eyes... You've seen one of them before, but never close enough.

"A fine night we're having, I suppose? At least I know I've been having quite the fun around these parts." You turn and can watch the woman grinning subtly. "But, you see, I've been damn lonely these days; perhaps you could invite this lady for a dance?"

She extends a hand covered by a old glove towards you, and you can see a small but certainly red scorpion crawling up her shoulder.

"This lady is Willow. Pleased. You?"