It was the dead of night and Roy wouldn’t have been able to see if it weren’t for the lamps around town. Gas powered, with their fuel underneath the flame chambers in tin containers. The woman said something about a bush catching ablaze and talking to it… [i]There’s probably someone in the bush, but after that thing,[/i] He glanced at the ashen remains of the… the… He wasn’t sure what to call it. [i]I can go for some whiskey…[/i] The woman mentioned where her room was and instructed someone bring a bottle from the bar, she didn’t specify what type so Roy made his way back into the tavern. There were some folk still milling about before bed and no one seemed to mind the gunfire from before. [i]Common occurrence?[/i]

“Barkeep.” The brit addressed the man behind the counter, he received a glance.  “You have any bottles of whiskey for sale? And how much?” He wasn’t certain what the price would be since he wasn’t used to the American currency’s value. 

“That’d be ‘bout…” He seemed to think for a bit, “Fifty cents.” Roy paid the man the his coin, not knowing if that was too expensive or not. He took the bottle up to the woman’s room, knocking before be entered, she was lounging on the other side of the room in a chair - waiting for people to come by for an explanation. 

"So... who was that back there - the clawed man."