Scott shrugs, thinking something better left unsaid about old ladies and their delicate bladders.  Well, the other guy isn't<em>his</em>responsbility; as long as he doesn't turn violent, he can do what he...<br/><br/>And then Scott hears the church bell, tolling, from somewhere in the forest.  For some reason, it sounds louder, clearer than it should.  He turns to look.  Funny; the bell continues to get louder and louder still.<br/><br/>Too loud! It feels like it's now ringing right inside his skull! Scott grimaces, clamping his hands on his temples, hunkering over in pain.  He feels sick, nauseous, like he's having the world's worst migraine.<br/><br/>And then, thankfully, it relents.  Scott blinks, fighting the retreating waves of nausea and vertigo.  He swallows, and realizes his forehead's broken out in a light film of cold sweat.<br/><br/>And then the loony is upon him.  Scott flinches, as if expecting an attack, but when the man calmly and rationally hands him the tire iron, he composes himself, taking it.  The man still seems crazy, but at least he's the rambling, talkative kind of crazy.  The harmless kind, in other words.<br/><br/>"Uhhh...I don't know," he remarks, slowly.  "You felt it too? It sounded like...a church bell, except way too loud."<br/><br/>Still reeling from the experience, Scott looks the man up and down.  Oh, well, if he's going to be stuck in the situation, he might as well make the best of it.  "What's your name, man? I'm Scott."<br/><br/>The restroom door is glanced at again.  "Doc?" he shouts.  "Doctor Munigant?"<br/><br/>