You meet a floating, no-legged person with dark, almost dusty-looking skin, wearing a sheriff’s uniform. He turns to look at you, laughing a bit as he exhaled a bit of smoke out of a cigar. His voice sounded aged, calm, and especially rusty.

“Howdy. What’s got y’ticked up? Ever seen a cripple before? Aheheh, I’m only kiddin’…How are ya, pard’ner?”