Until the sun had gone down, Cougar had been very happy to wear his long-sleeved henley, the jeans, his boots, and best of all, a fresh hat. He'd milled around and found himself food to pick at, noticing the corn around them had grown much too fast, but of all the things that happen here, he's learning that it's not so outside of the normal for it to happen.

What he's not expecting is when the sun goes down, his clothes vanish, in a snap. Suddenly, instead of wearing something that he likes very much, Cougar finds himself the hunted, and he's only glad it seems to be big and warm enough to give him some protection. He keeps the hood up, not just because of the warmth, but to keep himself protected.

It's also a good challenge. After all, this is an opportunity to have to try and hear who's coming behind him without a look. Standing there, wielding an ear of corn from where he'd been inspecting it, he turns on the set of footsteps he hears, wielding a vegetable a little more like a weapon.

Not very threatening, no, but still, good enough.

"Don't shoot," he deadpans, a deer stuck in headlights, wielding corn. It could be worse. He could be dressed as a dead deer after a run-in with a truck.