Swear to Dog, I have an excuse. A good one! See, from Friday until Monday, I was actually in Iowa, checking out my college, and thus without reliable access to the internet! So, it's not totally my fault!
...Well, Friday I guess is a bit my fault.
Plus, plus, I picked up some kind of nasty bug on the plane out there or something, which is why I didn't update on Monday or yesterday. See? Totally not my fault.
No use crying over spilt milk, might as well post the next scene or so. I really like this one, incidentally.
Panel 1: close exterior shot on a basement window in a house in Boneshade. we haven’t seen it specifically before. inside, homeowner Wyatt is holding a lantern, and Chuck is visible, though not identifiable by much more than his bulk. keep in mind that it’s a pretty small window.
Wyatt: ...yeah, sure, here’s the place. it’s a mite cramped, but-
Chuck: It’s fine, Wyatt. Thank you kindly for letting me stay.
Wyatt: ah, well, think nothin’ of it.
Panel 2: Interior shot of the room - it’s indeed cramped, with little in the way of furnishings, and cobwebds clinging in the corners. there’s a small bed against one wall, and Chuck is looking around passively, while Wyatt, a balding man in mutton-chops with sagging eyes, holds a lantern in his sleeping clothes.
Wyatt: All in the spirit of generosity, just like Mister Kearn s-
Chuck: Right. Thank you.
Wyatt: If you don’t mind my asking, why do you want to keep outta sight? Anything to know about?
Panel 3: Basically the same as panel one, except now Wyatt is closer to the window, glancing out sharply.
Chuck: Jes’ keepin’ an eye on -
Wyatt: Eh - Hold up, Chuck, I thought I saw...
Chuck: What, Wyatt?
Chuck: ...ahh, nothing. nothing worth talking about, anywho.
Panel 4: Exterior, angled to get a fuller view of the side of the house, with the glow from the window visible in the background. the focus, however, is on Cooke Smith, slipping along the side of the building, visible mostly in silhouette, though a gleam of moonlight falls across a crazed eye, part of a toothy smile, and his drawn knife.
Wyatt: let me just grab you a blanket.
Chuck: I’d ‘preciate it.
Panel 1: closeup on Kearn as he sleeps, mouth lolling open. the sleep of the greedy.
Panel 2: Same shot, with Cooke’s knife pressed against kearn’s throat, bringing him sharply awake.
Cooke: Aw, Tom, Tom, Tommy boy...
Cooke: Just keep quiet for a sec while I have my say.
Panel 3: we now see that cooke is leaning way over Kearn like a spider, one foot on the floor, the other planted on the bed, allowing him to peer close in at Kearn with a smile that shows all his teeth.
Cooke: ‘s pretty simple.
Cooke: Scream. Shout. anythin’ like that.
Cooke: An’ I skin those eyelids right offa your face. I skin you from toe to scalp. I carve that fat belly like a christmas ham.
Cooke: Gist o’ the matter is... be discreet. Hear?
Panel 4: Over Cooke’s shoulder, we see kearn nod silently.
Cooke: Good. You got somethin’ the Smith brother’s want.
Cooke: So now, they sent their youngest ta come an’ retrieve it.
Cooke: Can’t help but notice yer rucksack’s fulla a lotta nuthin’. So why don’t you tell ol’ Cooke where you stashed the cash?
Panel 5: profile of the scene, facing the windows that care casting moonlight on the proceedings.
Kearn: I - I - oh god.
Kearn: y-you have it wrong, there’s no money.
Cooke: Sure, sure, an’ all these fine accommodations just fell from the sky.
Kearn: No, I’m not... I’m not...
Cooke: Not what? you better -
Panel 6: Camera shifts, to reveal that Stacy has snuck up behind Cooke, and has a skillet cocked back and ready for a swing. there’s no fear on her face, just wrathful determination. Cooke is just starting to react.
Cooke -aw, love a duck-
Panel 1: Big ol’ shot of Stacy just swingin’ that frying pan. it swoops in a powerful arc, hitting Cooke in the face on the upward swing. Cooke is just catapulted off Kearn, knocked back. he keeps a grip on his knife
Panel 2: Cooke: Does his best to recover, hunched and clutching at his face with his off hand, gritting his teeth.
Cooke: Girl, you just -
Panel 3: Stacy swings again, catching him in the midsection and making him drop his knife.
Stacy: I just what?
Stacy: Hit you with a skillet?
Panel 4: Cooke is hunched way over, and Stacy’s leg is in the foreground, with the skillet dangling by her side.
Stacy: Imagine that.
Cooke: Hwuh... hwuh...
Cooke: ...kill you...
Panel 5: Focus on Cooke as he takes a final pan to the back of the head, sending him sprawling.
Stacy: I’ll kill YOU before I let you just TAKE my ticket OUT.
Panel 6: Stacy is stooped down, pulling on cooke’s hair to pull his face off the floor. cook’s alive, his eyes cast sideways and his mouth hanging open in a punch-drunk stupor. Stacy is looking at him with gritted teeth and fury, while Kearn in the background is still on the bed, terrified, the sheets drawn up to his chin.