<i>When Sam was done yelling, she'd hear snoring coming from another area of the building near by. If she moved towards the sound, eventually she'd come to a large figure sprawled out along an old, battered couch. Booted feet crossed and propped up on a torn arm. Part of the newspaper covering the mans face floating up slightly with each rumbling snore. One burly arm hung off the side of the couch, the weathered hand seeming to reach for a half empty bottle of whiskey just out of it's grasp even while he slept.<br/>
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It would seem Sam would need to yell louder to get Charlies attention.</i>