<strong>Nathan Maddoc</strong><div class="floatright">(http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7041/6784901344_8e4803feaa_m.jpg)</div><br/><em>Sunday Night – Walking to Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/><em>Fucking Gulch. Well, at least it told you what it did on the tin,</em>Nate mused as he strode down the country road. The address he'd been given was a ways out of town – surprisingly close to the elder Goddard's family lands, actually, but the walk was comfortable on a cool evening, and helped settle dinner. He grinned to himself, wryly hoping he didn't meet anyone he knew... though in such a small community, maybe that was a vain hope.<br/><br/>Pausing on the side of the road, he craned his head, gazing around through the cornfields, seeking landmarks. There was something hypnotic about the terrain in this part of the world; endless rolling plains adorned with a quilt of crops, great regular grids and rings of plantings. But Nate managed to pick out what he was looking for: a great barn in the middle of a field, less dilapidated than most, with light visible around curtained windows and under doors. Grabbing the wires of a fence he swung himself through the barrier and straightened in the field, making his way towards the building. Brushing a few strands of cornsilk from his sleeves, Nate approached the door, hearing voices and low country music inside. The Kiwi man paused, glancing around surreptitiously, but saw no-one else nearby, just a few parked cars... and stepped inside.<br/><br/>The place was quite empty; there was a big black guy talking to a square-jawed man by the bar, while a slender blonde in a schoolgirl-fantasy outfit fixing a drink on the other side. Nate's eyes widened appreciatively as he took her in... yeah, it did what it said on the tin, all right.<br/><br/>He stepped towards the other two men, reaching for his wallet. “G'day. You said something about a door fee...?”