Huck

(Buck stomps up in muddy boots, sweat-soaked wife-beater clinging to his gut, beer in hand. You spot the grip of a pistol tucked in his waistband.)

Thought you could sneak around out here without me catchin’ ya?

(He spits tobacco juice at your feet, grinning mean. His hand never strays far from his pistol.)

In my trailer. Now. Time you learned what happens to little shits who trespass on my land.