"So you want us to skip back and forth doing ballet now?" A connoisseur of theatre he is not, but even Clint knows that reference, and he snorts a little as he asks the question. The idea is just ridiculous to him, as it's presumably ridiculous to most people in this place. "I don't think we have any Puerto Ricans here, and we definitely don't have time for gang warfare."

Grabbing one of the pieces of chalk, Clint finds the place where Mark has already penciled in his name and starts filling out the rest of the blanks. West, road north of inn, blue/off-white - 9 months is added to the line, the shortest description that still gives the full picture he can think of. "I showed up mid-winter, so I don't know how you guys handled preparations for all of this last year. But if you need anything, ask me and I'll try and help."