[ A middle-aged man sits alone in one of the diner booths. His unevenly long blonde hair, streaked with white, is tied back with a length of ribbon, and he sports a fringed white buckskin coat embellished with small silver plates running along the middle of his chest. There's a dollop of whipped cream stuck in his beard on the right corner of his mouth.

He's giving a half-eaten slice of banana pie a look that's ping-ponging between confusion and suspicion at an oscillating rate. It stops when he hears anyone approach, his head coming up with an awkward smile plastered to it. ]

Uh - hey! Hello. [ He raises his hand in a jerky wave. ] I'm Jaune, probably, and you - you look like you're looking for a place to sit? Because if you are you could sit here. At my booth. I don't mind. Plenty of space, you know?

[ He is surrounded by empty booths. His awkward smile widens into an even more awkward grin as he tucks his hand behind his head and chuckles uncomfortably. ]

[ If you're out after dark, wandering the town for whatever reason, you may begin to notice the signs of being stalked. It's nothing you can pin down, but it persists despite that. Maybe it's the way the shadows move over the sand, or the whistle of the wind across something that shouldn't be there.

Until suddenly, something is. One or more of the chupacabra leap out at you in ambush, their terrible and thirsty jaws slavering -

- and a blond man in a white buckskin jacket charges past you to swing a sizable plank of wood at their head, batting the dog-like thing away with expert ease. ]

Stay behind me! [ He calls back to you, raising what looks suspiciously like a serving tray strapped to his forearm in front of himself as he pulls back his mighty plank for another swing. ] Don't worry! I've got this!