"Am I supposed to know you?" Van Mile asks, his hand shifting to his waist, easy reach. He has been on the trail of these bandits for many weeks, pressing into uncertain territory, far from any lines of assistance, and this new face in the posse is unfamiliar to him.
Diamond opens his second mouth, hidden within his thin smiles, and shows Sheriff Van Mile his stellar-formed carbon teeth with razor edges: "I'd suspect these would do the trick for eating the divine glass. Why don't you step a little closer and let us get a look at your face?"
Van Mile suppresses a shudder at the sight of the deputy badge in Diamond's coat, uncertain why. Diamond is clearly more than just a private investigator; there's some sinister thing underneath the jagged cold exterior. The sheriff lacks some vital details from his amateur investigation: Who had Diamond on retainer?
"Who was Cubed working for?" Van Mile thought, unable to place the origin of the thought.
It began to feel as if walking into such Dangerlands so blindly was a bad idea.