Wilford bends to pick up his puppy. "What are you crying for? You let him in," he says, assuming the dog is just annoyed that someone else that wasn't Wilford was in his room.

He moves over to sit down on the bed.

"Looked like it. I didn't see any wanted posters up or anything, but it might be worth hiding out for a while."

He's no newcomer to laying low, so he gets comfortable and lights another cigarette. He feels nauseas and shaky, but better than he did the day before.