The bar is calm, only a sparce handful of patrons sitting around, enjoying firewater and coffee. It smells like wood and dry dirt.

You sit down at the bar and make an order to the barkeep. She goes off to get it for you.

A man a chair away speaks up. "Dusty." You look at him. "Tha's my name. Dusty." He glances at you, gives a smile. "Figure if we gon' sit here, may as well talk, ey?"