Time Traveller

"...Blood River Gang?" You finish, and hold your breath.

Gripes' face goes first deathly pale then beetroot red. His balding head bears a sheen of perspiration.

"Why, fellow, you've got a nerve, coming in here with that kinda talk!" He growls, "You ought not believe the rumours people make up in these small towns!"

He lifts a pudgy arm and points at the door.

"You get the hell outta here, right now, mister. Blood River Gang indeed, this is a respectable establishment. You heard me, get the hell out!"