A young man lay on a hospital bed, the torso-bearing half of which was raised forty-five degrees, the better for him to face the police officer stood by the foot of the bed.

"So, you happened to walk by the house, heard a gunshot and screaming, and broke in," the brown-clad sherif recited.

"Yep," came the response, calm. "That's the size of it."

The sherif eyed the stranger, taking in his disgruntled appearance again. The hospital had washed the kid when he was unconscious, but it was clear it had been some time since the previous instance of bathing. His hair was a dry mess, face scarred from dirt and open pores, jaw overgrown with an unstyled beard, eyes more hard and alert than his tone.

"Well, Partridge doesn't remember it that way--"

"Don't see how he'd remember much of anything from that day."

"Mrs. Partridge says it was you who hit her, burglaring, and the husband shot you for both."

The young man didn't respond other than to close his eyes, but Sherif Noon could see the arteries in his neck flare up, and his mouth work on a tooth-grinding initiative. The sherif's eyes darted to the kid's hand when its arm eventually moved, and the fingers gently touched at the torso, where gauze could be seen bulking through his hospital gown. Sighing visibly calmed the stranger, and he spoke tiredly.

"And he hopped in his truck and drove out of state to protect his wife and property, ne?"

"I agree they didn't really think that part through. Most likely a jury will, too; but once you're healed up, we'll have to detain you until a trial can be held. By your own admission, they'll see you as a flight risk."

"[i]Yare, yare[/i]," the gunshot stranger intoned, finally opening his eyes again. "Should've let 'im beat 'er, at this rate."

Sherif Noon did not find the joke particularly amusing.

-•-•-•-

Some time later, Tyson hobbled out of his room, movement visibly pained despite the copious drugs meant to intercept his body's reports of serious injury. There was nothing to counteract the faint smell of someone's decidedly not-normal piss, but he supposed some olfactory texture was better than the usual sterility of the hospital, even without the benefit of a window, as his own room had.

A deputy from Noon's outfit was stationed outside Tyson's room, and he smiled pleasantly at her. The young woman was roughly his own age, he noted, and pretty, if a bit rough. Any romantic fantasies his mind attempted were quashed with relish, but this did not effect Tyson's smile. There was no value to conveying any kernel of loneliness the wanderer might have noticed in himself, and it might make the deputy uncomfortable.

Making his way down the hall, Tyson made use of a smooth, painted, wooden plank along the wall, a foot tall, and very obviously intended as a handrail. The deputy who followed him did not seem to need any support to walk, which Tyson took to mean she did not have healing tears through her chest and stomach, and various organs therein.

"Do nurses have a store of hairbands, d'you think?"

Tyson's assigned deputy had a black bob cut, so he'd decided she was not the person to ask for a band. The hospital had apparently elected to dispense with the worn rubber band from his own hair, which he supposed did give him an excuse to find something less... adhesive. Still, the mane around his face bothered Tyson, given how it dulled his hearing and diminished his field of vision. In winter, this would have been an acceptable trade-off for a warmed head, but in summer--

"Probably not," the deputy responded, after a moment. Tyson took in her accent -- something from South America -- and waited for her to expound, but she'd apparently relayed her thoughts on the issue.

"[i]Hah[/i]," he sighed. "I really need another one of those." Tyson kept walking, scanning the halls not just for people with appropriately lengthy hair, but for any exit routes. He'd been in this town for two days before being hospitalized, which brought it to four, even if he was unconscious for one. Faintly, he wondered where his clothes were being kept. Presumably they'd been laundered.