<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name</strong>: Avery Burnham<br/><strong>Faction</strong>: Law Dogs (1)<br/><strong>Date</strong>: May 18th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day</strong>: Morning<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Jailhouse<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Dolores, Townsend (nearby); CLOSED<br/><hr/>Avery caught the cell keys in his hat as Townsend flung them in his direction.  He considered making a pointed comment when the deputy threatened the use of his shotgun, as though he was holding Jesse James, John Wesley Hardin, and Blackjack all rolled into one and not some pixyish girl cradling her dolly.  Or rather such a comment sprang to the tip of his tongue before he swallowed it back down with a congenial nod.  He was not here to antagonize the law or make enemies of them.  These were men he was apt to run into time and again in the course of his work.  Befriending Townsend or Bilton might be beyond his powers but there was no sense intentionally making them resent him.  That would only make things more difficult in the future.  "Thank you, deputy.  It shouldn't take long."<br/><br/>Fishing the key out, Avery flashed Dolores a charming smile as he fitted it to the lock.  "Hello, Dolores. Thank you for the invitation. I should have loved a bit of tea but I suppose we'll have to make do without it, won't we?"  His voice was soft and gently patient, very nearly the one he might use if speaking with a small child, yet still friendly.  There were a variety of Averys he could play when necessary and he did not yet know which one she would respond to best.  He would simply have to adapt as they went along.  "That does seem harsh.  I'm not sure I could handle it, personally.  It must be very trying for you here, although I understand you've been quite brave about it.   Would you believe that's the very reason I've come?  I want to get you back home where you belong."<br/><br/>She clapped as he opened the door, and he managed to look no more than slightly startled when she flung her arms suddenly about his waist. "Ah…yes… Mr. Whateley, your husband that is, did hire me.  There's been a terrible misunderstanding and I'm to fix it."  He patted her shoulder soothingly, before guiding her over to the bed where they could both sit down.  Noting the way she was still clutching the doll, he now offered it a smile as well.  "Oh, hello there.  Does dolly have a name?  Mine is Avery."  As he awaited an answer, his gaze slowly shifted back over to Dolores while he studied her face.  Was this an act, was she merely faking it?  His initial impression was no.  She seemed quite sincere.  Mad as a hatter in other words, but not in an entirely off-putting way.  Dolores would be useless on the stand but might be made a sympathetic figure if coached and presented in the right manner, should it come to trial.<br/><br/>"I know many stories.  What sort of stories do you like Mrs. Dolores?  Stories of adventure and magic perhaps?  Of brave handsome knights rescuing lovely princesses?  Or perhaps you like the scary ones?  So do I.  I'll make you deal.  I'll tell you a story, any kind you like, if you tell me one too."  Placing his hat on his lap, Avery found himself wishing he had brought candy, a detail he might have thought of if he'd better known the details of her peculiarity.  "You see, this whole thing is a mistake, I believe.  The deputies don't intend to be mean, only they're scared and frightfully confused.  Something very terrible happened and they don't understand it.  They even think you might have done it yourself.  Now, we both know that's silly, don't we?  You wouldn't hurt all those people at the asylum would you?  But perhaps you might have seen something?  That's what I'd like you to tell me, Dolores.  The story of that night.  And then I can tell them and perhaps they'll understand, and we can get you back to your family and put this unpleasantness behind us."<br/>