"Sorry. Doesn't work like that."

Kiara jumped back in fright as one moment it was empty air, and the next, Sandal was standing among them. "Is this gonna be a daily routine?" Sandal gave her a toothy grin. 

"Hardly. Only on Tuesdays." But it was Thursday. Before Kiara could point this out, Sandal gestured outside the tavern to where the sandstorm once was. "Obviously, the recent outbreaks of black sand has been caused by the Devil. Or, Webster Pelgado. That's the name he's been going by in these parts. Fancy name, I'd reckon." Kiara raised an eyebrow at Vincent before hearing out Sandal. "Anyway, he's got this little assistant of his. Ragsy? Rebel? Roadkill? Think it was. . .Roadkill. That's his name!"

"You sure about that?" Kiara asked. 

"Absolutely! And if not, well hey, at least you died noble. Anyway, you don't get special weapons. You don't get special treatment. But you do get me. Not my support mind you, but my commentary. That's gotta count for something." Kiara was slowly losing patience with this man. Sandal ignored her and glanced outside again. "They'll both be here tomorrow at sundown. Probably. They most likely sent a scout ahead just in case."

A loud grumbling echoed in the tavern, giving off a blood curdling howl. Sandal grinned. "That's you cue," he told the two travelers. "Don't mind me. I'll pop in here and there every so often. Just don't screw up." And then he as gone. Just like that. The howling only got louder and closer, putting them both on edge. One was certain about Sandal's words. It was their problem now.