<div class="floatleft">(http://i221.photobucket.com/albums/dd315/Kali_83/FloydChester.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Floyd Chester (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=132613.msg5897467#msg5897467)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gas Station<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Day 1, early evening<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Dianna Emerson<br/><br/>Floyd seems not to notice the pretty little thing right away. He continues whittling on the hunk of wood in his hands, whistling a tune with a slow melody. His old hound dog perks its head up as the young woman approaches and lets out a soft whine, alerting its master of her arrival. As she gets closer, the pot bellied man stops the rocking of his chair. He puts his knife away and places the wood on the ground beside him. He takes off his hat, rubs the sweat from his forehead with one his chubby forearm, then replaces the hat. The wind picks up once again as he looks up at the woman and grins a toothy grin.<br/><br/>"Howdy there, Miss. We got gas for sale, cold beer inside, broiled peanuts to yer left, and an outhouse ‘round back. What can I do ya fer?" The shirtless hick hooked two thumbs under his suspenders and waited for her reply.