A life on the run is quite a cold life. Literally, it's cold. Many nights, Trace was by himself on his horse, Oggie as he named him, having the horse trot through the desert until he reached the next town with a tavern and bar. Tonight was different though. He was particularly tired, and aggravated with the cold. He just wanted to find some lodging, at least for the night. And so, that was the poor farmers problem now. He was quite sneaky getting into the farmers property, into their house, and then close enough to the farmer that his gun was very much an existing and imminent threat for the farmer. It was quite a lovely scene to behold, the farmer seemingly trying to finish up dinner with their record player playing some music for them to fill up the silence. But, that scene was interrupted once the farmer had turned and actually saw Trace. It was a silent engagement, where he use the gun to point for the farmer to sit down in the nearest seat. "Now, I ain't gonna hurt ya..." He said in a low, hushed voice as he stepped closer to the farmer, "Because you're gonna give me what I want, aintcha?"