Rawley lights another cigarette and keeps pace with Haskins. He looks nervously into the darkness above him.
"Lord, Brindle," he mutters. "I don't know what call a newspaperman's got doing in a dank hole in South America. Sure as hell could use a drink."
OOC: BryonD- Nice understudy...snake...woman..etc. Rawley will spot above. Can he see the ceiling? I'll take a natural 1 as a wild ash from his cigarette just went in his eye.
"Son of a b****!" he shouts, hopping up and down. His cigarette explodes in a shower of sparks across the floor as he claws at his right eye.