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Buffel sat next to a building on the outskirts of town, looking up at the pink moon. The air was cool, and not so much relaxing but in such a way that it left him eager to move. He had no contracts tonight and it seemed like his time would be spent meandering about town, looking for some dust to be kicked up. The young guttersnipe was not normally one for days off, and now was no different. Whatever sat up in the sky, none of it seemed eager to rouse him from his boredom. Giving up on the vast expanse above him, he turned his gaze to the desert beyond the town’s end. Just as he was set to write off the land as similarly dull, something caught him.

Turning quickly, he saw bright light emitted from a hill not too far from him. Buffel had heard the sound first, a quiet but distinct explosion. He checked around him. It appeared as if no one else in town had noticed, or at least gave a care about the fuss out yonder. Shrugging to himself, he trotted out across the sands to see what was up. Climbing a large hill, he happened upon the site: a young redblood and what appeared to be her lusus were haulin’ toward the charred remains of some contraption that had blown its top. He eased himself down the hill of sand, calling out to her.


“Hey! Hey Miss, ‘scuse me! What was all that racket over here just a second ago!?”

Buffel cocked his head to one side, confused. He surveyed the damage. Parts were strewn about the desert, the initial take-off point had been scorched heavily and her blast shield had a notable ding where a piece had flown straight for it. Resting his foot on what looked to be a gasket, he teetered it back and forth as he mulled over what he saw. Buffel turned to the largest of the machine’s remains, where she sat.
The girl looked up, soot marks all upon her apron. He might not have the brightest spark in his thinkpan, but he knew enough to know that weren’t no clock. Wings like that, it had all the fixin’s of a rocket, but Buffel let it slide. Some people got their secrets ‘n’ all that.

“The name’s Buffel. Buffel Obille. ‘S a mighty fine pleasure to meet ya miss!”

His smile wide and genuine, but lacking in a tooth or two. He walked up to her at an even pace, before stopping with his hand outstretched to help her up.

“Oh nothin’ special Miss, just meandering about. No contracts today so I figured I’d go lookin’ for some excitement around town. My feet led me to the edge o’ town right here, so I guess the excitement is you!”

Dang, she was sure-as-shootin’ committed to that clock story. Buffel knew she wouldn't give up what it was she made, but it was worth a shot to try and wrestle what she was doing afore the explosion. He wiped his now soot-covered hand off on his sarape. The whole place was strewn with parts she'd probably want back, maybe on tonight's menu was assisting the lady with picking up the whole caboodle of scrap? Not the worst way to spend a night!

“Not to pry Miss, but what exactly were ya doin’ makin’ a uh, clock all the way out here?”

He looked back towards town. Not a soul in sight. Turning toward the redblood he continued his queries.

“Seems altogether deserted out here, and from the looks of it all ya prepped for a mighty wide blast radius!”

”Awe come now, don’t worry about that none! Lady’s entitled to ‘er secrets, I ain’t sore about it.”

Buffel began to pick up scraps with her. Grabbing the gasket he’d spotted careening off in the explosion, he confessed, ”I did have an inkling this was a bit too high-falutin’ to just measure time. It’s awful thoughtful of ya to pick such a lonesome spot to test it so nobody gets hurt!”

He hoped she was feeling better after the failure to launch. The wreckage was still fairly warm in his hands. Looking at the rest of the scrap, Buffel cocked his head to the side. All of it seemed totally foreign to him and he had nary a clue what he should be picking up and what should just be left there. What kinda mess was this gal in? Testing rockets in the middle of the night was hardly a common pastime. Answers beget more questions, he supposed.

”As for my contracts…”

Buffel reached to his hip, nabbing his trusty six-shooter from his side with his free hand and tossed it skyward, catching it just under the trigger with his finger and giving it a few good twirls before he holstered it once more.

”...I’m a gun for hire! I shoot what needs shootin’ and help who needs helpin’!”

Buffel hadn't noticed the mild look of worry in the girl's face. His eyes lit with a fire like the flames of the suns themselves. This was Buffel's home turf in conversation and he was happy to oblige the woman in her question. Closing the gap between them quickly, Buffel smirked.

”Why bad guys o’ course! Miscreants, varmints, criminals, crooks!”

With each term Buffel posed dramatically, his left hand positioned in a finger-gun fashion as his off-hand held the bottom, pretending to brace it. Satisfied with his performance, he held the fingergun to his mouth, blowing the imaginary smoke away. Tipping his imaginary hat with the tip of the imaginary gun, he holstered the hypothetical weapon.


”Usually I just fire a warning shot and that's all it takes! It ain't too hard and I figure ya gotta help the helpless, right the wrongs!”

Buffel watched as her eye as he said these things. Reading her expression, he let his smile fade for a moment to give a slight air of professionalism as he went into work mode.

”Might ya have anyone in mind that fits that description, ma’am?”

She had muttered it, but he heard her mention that she knew someone who might fit that description. She didn't tread on the topic for long, but he hoped that she weren't mixed up in anything too dismal. Before he could give it much worry however, Tevini changed the subject.

Buffet's eyes lit up at the mention of hunting,
” 'Course I can! What kind o’ self respectin’ sharpshooter ya take me for?”

He began to tap his holster confidently but stopped as he looked out towards the desert, remembering the local fauna.

”Not much in the way of options if we’re talkin’ desert huntin’ though. Might have a bit more luck in the swamp, if ya like the taste of scalebeast. If it's a hunting contract I'd be happy to oblige you, Miss.”

”Well o’ course! I’d be happy to take ya out hunting with me!”

The boy was excited to be able to show off his skills to another person. He wondered if the girl had been on many a hunting trip afore. She certainly seemed to have a scrappy sense of survival skills about her. Plus she made that rocket, so he figured she had to have quite the brain on her. He gave the lowblood a once-over to assess how ready she would be to take on some of the more athletic portions of the process. She could probably handle hogtyin’ if her aim is good, and given her handiness she might have enough coordination for some gun lessons he supposed. Maybe he could train her in some of his hunting methods regularly? The idea of havin’ a sidekick in his tracking and hunting appealed to Buffel, and as he thought it a wide grin of confidence appeared across his face. Once again his gun was unholstered and he flipped it all about himself. Whilst twirlin’ his six shooter all about and catching in in flashy poses, he bragged to her.

”It can be a teachin’ experiment for ya! Don’t know how experienced ya are with guns, but I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two no matter what you’ve d-!”

Moving his eyes to her face, he coulda sworn saw a slight worry amidst her insistence. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the gun he was holding, currently pointed directly at her in another flashy pose. Embarrassed by such foolhardy display, he quickly shoved the gun back into it’s holster and stepped closer to her. Slowly and carefully, he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

”Right outside the swamp, sounds like a plan. If you ever need help with anything else too, just give a holler, ya hear?”