Phillip
Dusk was soon to fall on Briar Ridge, the quaint little town once peaceful and calm now struck by an insurmountable force, that of monsters beyond their wildest dreams. Well, they were easy to name and describe, but nothing could've prepared them for their violent introduction and small eccentricities. Riley and many others now had witnessed them firsthand, most leaving the encounter with scars and bruises to show for it. Riley was no different, one of his arms still in a sling and a head that occasionally was struck by waves of pain. Still, he pushed forward, refusing to let that slow him down. In fact, he fought even harder now, focusing on what he saw and becoming determined to put an end to it. The horrid smell of the beast still lingered in his nostrils, foul miasmas that conjured forth nightmares and regurgitated the image of the creature itself. He would never forget, he couldn't forget. 

Daily life was painfully mundane, today being no different. Clothes hung on a length of twine strung taught between trees, overalls and button up shirts making up the majority of the items as his grandma did hers just the other day. Sitting in the grass below the billowing batch of damp clothes Riley held a journal close, doing his best to scribble designs of a new mask into it for when he was able to carve again. Near it was additional drawings of the creature, many pages prior also containing it and various notes regarding potential weaknesses or universal dislikes. Some notes were scribbled out, those often containing mentions of his brother in comparison to the recently missing Estep couple and the appearance of the wolfen monster. The moon overhead was a new waxing gibbous, one step away from another full moon, the promise of carnage making Riley's skin crawl each time he glanced at the sky.
Margery
Charlie had always been somewhat wary of dusk. Less light meant less visibility, the need to keep on higher alert than normal. The woods were dangerous, and it'd only get them killed if they were cocky. Here, though? On a little farmstead? They could let their guard down, just a little bit- enough to lessen the almost constant furrow in their brow. Caution was still warranted, of course- they could recognize the sounds of chickens somewhere, and those little bastards always like to make a ruckus.

It'll be simple: they'll sneak up, grab enough for a new outfit, leave their dirtiest clothes behind, and run. They've done this numerous times before, how would now be any different?

The *Snap* Of a branch under their boot brings them to a complete stop, shoulders tensed and eyes wide. A bad start, but they could salvage this, as long as no one w-

Maybe they'd been a little *Too* Focused on the chance at clean clothes, considering that they failed to register *The actual fucking person that sat by the goddamn clothesline.*

***Move, you idiot. Run!***

Alas, Charlie continues to stand there, praying that they could simply melt into the foliage below.
Phillip
Riley was too busy scribbling and scratching away in his notebook to truly notice Charlie before a stick broke the news, his mind engulfed in a rotten stench and wet animal hair. The chickens at this point were like white noise, even more to muffle the sounds of someone approaching. 

With the sudden snap of a branch right in front of him Riley's head jolted up, his heart jumping up into his throat. His doodling stopped in its tracks and as soon as he caught sight of a particularly guilty looking fellow on the other side of the clothesline Riley was swift to confront the stranger.

With his own brow furrowed and gut boiling with newfound anger he slowly stood, keeping his eyes staring straight into the new face in front of him. His rising was slow at first, his good arm pushing off of the ground while the one in a sling was helpless to assist. His journal and the granite pencil that came with it rested amongst the grass while he simply stood and looked them up and down, taking it all in.

"What do you think you're doing?" Riley finally said firmly, taking a step forward. His patience was thin as it was after the attack and to think that someone had the stupidity and hubris to try stealing something right under his nose was easily infuriating. Strands of long ginger hair fell over his face as he took the step, being too focused on the wannabe thief to really care about moving it out of the way.
Margery
The first thing that Charlie's mind registers is that the man approaching is injured, yet still has enough confidence (or foolhardiness) to approach. The second, and infinitely more pressing, is just how *Pissed* He looks.

"I don't- I'm-" They shrink in on themself, their words stumbling over one another in their fear. "I didn't see you here, I just needed-"

Charlie stops, taking in a ragged breath. If they ran, would he follow? Would he try to sic the entire town upon them, the would-be thief? What do they even *Do* To thieves here? At best, they rationalize that they would have to leave another town, to try their hand somewhere else. At worst? Prison, perhaps. Maybe they'd get their tail handed to them and have to nurse a few cuts and bruises in a cell. Maybe worse.

"I needed pants," They finally say, voice small and trembling. "I don't have enough money for food and new clothes, and all of mine are dirty or full of holes. I thought it would be okay, I'm sorry."
Phillip
The reaction of this would be thief was a bit surprising, Riley's anger faltering for a moment as he observed their increasingly meek behavior. They became like a mouse or rat rather than the sly fox he first perceived them as. Still, much of his frustration still remained even with this new revelation. Riley waited for them to finish their thought, his furrowed brow and flaming gaze softening ever so slightly. 

*"I needed pants."*
Pants? Thought it would be okay? Riley stole stuff as a kid but he always knew it wasn't right, that was the point. The stranger very well could've meant something else but in the end their words made this previously black and white issue blur into many shades of gray. 

With a deep sigh and a free hand reaching up to pinch his nose Riley contemplated what to do. This person had no money but he couldn't afford to just give away his stuff for free. Eventually Riley came to some sort of conclusion, releasing the bridge of his nose and turning back to face the stranger for a second. He couldn't keep eye contact for very long as he revealed a compromise.

"Look, I can't just give my shit away, especially not after these past few full moons. Maybe you could...*Work* For some of them." He began hesitantly, his expression fading further away from rage and more towards uncomfortableness. He hated being vulnerable like this. "With me injured I can't take care of the garden and our chickens like I used to. If you help out around here until I'm back on my feet then I might be willing to give you some of my clothes."
Margery
Charlie's gaze darts behind Riley to the clothesline, then to the homestead in the distance. It's a sensible option, something to fill their empty time until they figure out whatever the hell they're going to do in Briar Ridge. However, the mention of the moon gives them pause. Superstition surrounding full moons wasn't something knew to them; hell, Sylvia used to be horrified of them when she was smaller.

***Could do worse than a town with some superstitions.***

"I can do that." They nod, bringing their gaze back to focus on Riley. "I don't need much, really- just enough to have a clean set of clothes. M-Maybe some food, too, if you can spare any?"

Charlie thinks for a moment, then adds, "I can work during the full moon, too- I don't mind working at night."
Phillip
Riley carefully watched Charlie eye his clothes before moving onto his home, hoping that this stranger wasn't going to make a run for it. To his surprise and delight it seemed they really considered his offer and as they nodded he couldn't help but smile a tad. "Oh, trust me, if you're working we'll scrounge you up something when you're around." Riley reassured them, actually being quite joyous knowing they'd have a new face joining them. However, once they mentioned working during the full moon his smile swiftly faded and his face shifted towards horror. 

"Ohhhhh no, no no no, not on my watch!" Riley practically scolded, a sense of panic overshadowing any anger he had before. "Don't you know what happens at night when the moon's full? Do you think I wrecked my shoulder being stupid?" He began to exclaim with his voice raising in volume. As a nervous habit Riley began to walk from side to side, still keeping his eyes mostly on Charlie. 

"There are these beasts that come out, wolf men or whatever you'd call them! They smell like rot and are hungry as hell!" Riley continued before swiftly leaning down to grab his journal, attempting to flip through some pages before eventually landing on one of a drawing. It was that of a large creature covered in hair and with plenty of canine features. "This! You see this?" He asked, shoving it in Charlie's field of vision. "*This* Is what comes out on a full moon, seen them myself and my friend has the scars to prove they're real."
Margery
Well, that's certainly new.

Charlie stares at the journal, brows furrowing. It's a hard thing to believe, and they're not a particularly superstitious person themselves, but the conviction in Riley's voice is hard to argue against.

"I haven't been in town long enough to see anything like this," They gesture to the open page, "But it doesn't look... Great. You said you and your friend got hurt by one of these things? Wouldn't something like that kill you?"

Even if Charlie doesn't *Entirely* Believe Riley, they still have enough sense not to downright say his claims are bullshit. Better to go in with an open mind than to completely shut it all off, yes?

"...Should you be doing any sort of work with your arm like that?"
Phillip
It was hard to not interpret Charlie's words and tone as that of disbelief. It understandably made him a tad frustrated but in the end he couldn't really blame them. If you hadn't witnessed it yourself it would be hard for anyone to fully believe it themselves. Hell, Riley didn't before it tore up his friend Beaux time and time again, their strength shown through broken doors and shattered bones. 

"It's tried to kill but we've been lucky so far." Riley continued upon Charlie suggesting that the beast would kill more than maim. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of the missing folk are really dead out there in the woods, though." He grimly remarked to finish off his response, closing the book with one hand and gently tossing it back onto the grass below.

*'Should you be doing any sort of work with your arm like that?'*

Charlie's remark echoed in Riley's head, something similar having been said by most of the people he knew. Each time he was face with the same reality he refused to believe, that being the fact that he needed to rest and *Not* Do work. He didn't want to get to yelling at this poor soul like he had many others before, instead taking a deep breath in and feigning a smile. "Who else is gonna feed the chickens, tend to the garden and do all the other shit needed to keep this place running, hm?" Riley asked rhetorically, feeling the utmost responsibility to do all he could at any given time.

"You aren't the first one to be concerned. I guess everyone else's complaints are why you're even being given this deal."
Margery
"I could- do all of those things for you, I mean. You could always supervise?"

Charlie understands the need to do everything, as irrational as it is. Trusting those sorts of things to someone else means it could be done *Wrong*, and then you'd only have to go back and do it all yourself anyways. Sometimes it was better to not even bother.

"I know how to take care of a garden, and how to feed chickens. I'm good with a hammer, too, if anything needs fixing."

It does occur to them that they're essentially... Advertising themselves, and they have to stifle down their embarrassment. A job is a job, and this one was desperately needed. Even if their would-be boss was a little superstitious, they'd at least get a clean pair of clothes. Hell, maybe something would actually *Fit* Them for once, if this stranger-

Right. Stranger.

"I, uh, didn't introduce myself. My name is Charlie." They hold their hand out to Riley's bad arm for a moment, curse softly, then switch so he can shake with his good arm.
Phillip
What Charlie was thinking in the beginning was completely in line with what Riley's mind went to. He feared being taken advantage of most of all, having been the sort of kid to cheat his way out of hard work once upon a time and look for loopholes. However, in his condition trust was of the utmost importance and some risks needed to be made. He needed to trust this person even if they were essentially a stranger who gave him puppy eyes the moment they got caught.

As Charlie listed out their skills as they applied to this job Riley couldn't help but smile. He was getting the feeling that this person was a tad desperate, maybe boosting up their resume and saying whatever they could to seal the deal. It was amusing even if this wasn't really the case.

A hand was extended, one that surprised Riley for a moment before he registered what was actually going on. The small error of Charlie trying to shake an out of commission hand easily caused Riley to laugh, seeming to forgive and forget what had happened moments before. With his free hand Riley shook Charlie's own, his handshake firm but short. "I'm Riley, nice to meet ya." He said simply before gesturing back to the house with his head.

"I live with my grandma, she can't do much nowadays. She tries, believe me, but I do most of the harder jobs." He continued, hoping to give Charlie some more context. "The town tries to help out when I can't do it all but everyone's gotta tend to their own at the end of the day. Would you wanna go meet her? She's got a habit of giving everyone a hard time so don't take anything personally."
Margery
Charlie's ears burn as Riley laughs, despite the good nature of it. They're glad that it seems to get them into better graces with him, but there is still the fact that it's *Embarrassing.* Their hand goes to rub at the back of their neck once Riley withdraws his hand.

"It's a pleasure, Mister Riley."

At the mention of his grandmother, Charlie perks up a small bit.

"She sounds a little bit like my grandpa," They chuckle breathily, "He's going on...68, now? Refuses to let anyone do for him, even with his cane."

The context that Riley gives, as small an amount as it is, settles some of the burgeoning worry in their chest. He seems like a good sort, enough so that people come by to help him out, so Charlie... Shouldn't get horribly murdered. Not that they think they *Will*, considering his bad arm and personality shown, but caution is still important!

"I'd be glad to go and meet her, though I hope she won't give me trouble over my... Disheveledness."
Phillip
Riley hardly noticed the ashamed gesture Charlie gave, being too focused on what good or bad could come from this. To hear a piece of Charlie's backstory felt relieving in a way. In the end he was just happy that this didn't end with bloody knuckles or a missing shirt. Leaning down once more Riley snatched up his journal and got ready to get moving.

As he wandered back towards the house with the not-so-stranger in tow he wondered what exactly their grandfather looked like. Were they like his own? The more he thought however the more he realized that his grandfather's features were a bit fuzzier in his head. He knew that was what happened when someone leaves your life, the rest of his family were evidence enough of that, but it still hurt once you noticed it happening. 

"So, uh... Is your grandpa around here or has it been a while since you've seen him?" Riley asked rather out of the blue, unintentionally projecting his own feelings into his words. Still, his question still stood, most of it being out of genuine curiosity. It could also get two answers in one, Charlie's response potentially enlightening Riley into just where they came from.
Margery
"It's been about a year." The words want to catch in Charlie's throat, and they have to fight down the sudden prick of sadness. "He's back up in Illinois, near Chicago."

***Lillian and Sylvia, too.***

Charlie's own family had an odd sort of way of being: always close by, yet somehow also being complete and utter strangers. There were a few aunts and uncles, a gaggle of cousins, but they hardly ever interacted with Charlie. Lillian and Sylvia had had a bit of better luck, but Charlie had always been the black sheep of the Marsh family.

It didn't help that some of their... Less upstanding acts had been directed towards them. How were they supposed to know that a few sparklers would burn down most of Aunt Nessa's garden? Cousin Oliver's truck was a hunk of junk anyways, so what if one of his tires got half melted? Who gave a damn if Cousin Maisie ran home crying with a bloody nose, she'd done *Worse*-

"What about you? Is it just you and your grandmother in town?"