Carl took one good look at Lonestar in the light before he reached up and turned off his head lamp. Then, he looked at his trailer. He laughed, briefly and almost ruefully.<br/><br/>"You've got the devil's own luck, then. I only cut on this lot once a year." He set his axe back against his trailer, reached for his pocket and removed his cigarettes. He continued, hardly skipping a beat, "You've got cash, I assume?"<br/><br/>He turned towards Lonestar while he lit his cig, his face was illuminated by the lighter flame. Brown eyes, dark hair speckled with grey, weathered, tan skin. Carl is half mexican. He's got bushy eyebrows. He's got a moustache. He doesn't have a descernable accent. When he turns to the side you can see some weight on him. Not quite fat, but healthy. Well fed.<br/><br/>Carl is jovial enough, but he's a bit leary on account of Lonestar being a stranger in the woods.<br/><br/>