[If there were a phone to speak into, Joan would be glaring at the reciever. That accent-- deep South, definitely. It lacks the twang of Kentucky, and the skullfuck dullness of Oklahoma. She can't place it beyond that and it's kind of... annoying. Whatever, get over it, Joanie.]

[It does bring out a ghost of Joan's own real accent, the slightest sliver of a Texan drawl.]

We tried to kill each other, first time we met up. I know what he's like. I ain't here to make excuses for him, or anybody. What he did to you was wrong, and I hope you're getting what you're owed outta it.

[What else can she say but that?]

The boy-- man. The guy who runs the library, Wesley? We think he might've been kidnapped, but searching in town is... shit's bad in town.