@savagecowboy from [here]
The place isn't recognizable as anything important to Cuthbert Allgood. So little in this strange world was immediately recognizable to him. But it would be of use to get out of the rain, a bitterly cold rain that slapped the body as well as the soul painfully. The Allgood 'slinger was, of course, capable of laughing in the rain, but it was much more difficult when you were on your own.
Not expecting anyone, Cuthbert is momentarily startled by the figure that simply appears. Not many could sneak up on him, Jamie DeCurry was one of the only that came to mind, and he has to keep himself from rolling his eyes at himself. He looks at what many would likely take as an imposing figure with an air of cool humor, raising his brows high and grinning. Cuthbert holds up a finger and wrings out his long, dark hair before brushing it back and pulling it into a messy bun.
The Allgood guns are hidden on his person, one in his pants, the other in a shoulder strap under his jacket. It was annoying not to carry them properly, of course, and he couldn't help but think of his friends when he thought about it. If Alain had ended up in this strange, backwards world, he'd surely have had enough sense to also conceal his weapons once he was around for more than five minutes. It was Roland Cuthbert was really concerned about.
Roland wasn't stupid, not by any means, no, but he was just such a traditionalist and so obsessed with the way things should be. He'd likely cause some sort of massacre just on principal if the "poe-lee-ce" tried to arrest him and take his weapons. Not that Roland really had any chance of ending up here. He was almost certainty still alive, Cuthbert had no doubt. Though, minus his horn. No, that precious object did hang at Bert's hip, his until he supposed the end of time. Some sort of parting gift, he reckoned.
Even dripping wet, Cuthbert was a man of remarkable good looks, the only thing that was off about him was the eyepatch he wore over his one ruined eye. Funny thing, that, to die some place and then wake up in another still baring the scars of that death. It was funny to Bert, anyhow. Most things were.
"no thanks!" He says, brightly, as though he weren't in some ruined building in the middle of nowhere with some creep. No, he talks as casually and easily as if the other was an old friend. "they say it ruins the lungs. at least that's what they say here, back home, all the greatest doctors recommended smoking. interesting how things change when you get out and into the world, isn't it?"
He continues, "quite a nice place you've got here! i assume this is your home, or perhaps just a resting place for you? the name's cuthbert, by the way, would you like to share yours?"
