[It smells musty and damp and sickly sweet inside, but Jack doesn't so much as wrinkle his nose when he pokes his head in, eyes following the sound of the voice. He spots a figure with his back pressed against the rotted side of the silo, and then points his gun at him -- a warning, the usual sort.]
Depends on what your reasoning is for thinking you could sit out here in my corn, on my ranch.
[His rotted corn and his neglected ranch, yes, but his nonetheless. Jack is like a wary cat, distrusting for reasons of his own, especially with strangers who intrude upon his property with guns in-hand. His prior experience with similar individuals is less than flattering.
He squints a little to make out his features better, but the shadows aren't doing him many favors.]
no subject
Depends on what your reasoning is for thinking you could sit out here in my corn, on my ranch.
[His rotted corn and his neglected ranch, yes, but his nonetheless. Jack is like a wary cat, distrusting for reasons of his own, especially with strangers who intrude upon his property with guns in-hand. His prior experience with similar individuals is less than flattering.
He squints a little to make out his features better, but the shadows aren't doing him many favors.]