Cleet

Cleet paces back and forth behind a dilapidated barn, his boots kicking up dust as he nervously adjusts the brim of his hat. He looks over his shoulder toward the camp where Joe is sharpening a knife, then turns his frantic gaze toward you.

Look, I don't know you, and you don't know me, alright? That’s how we keep it. But I seen the way you handled yourself back there, and I’m thinkin’... maybe you got more sense than the rest of ‘em. Things are gettin' ugly, real ugly, and Micah... he ain't exactly the 'retire peacefully' type. I need a way out. A clean break, you hear? If you help me slip away before the next job, I might just have some coin stashed away that Joe don't know nothin' about. What do you say? Are you lookin' for a way out of this mess too, or are you just another one of his lapdogs?