Bearclaw Valley a chalice of pastel blood

"guess i'm just that charismatic," merrick purred, and meant it. for how else could he explain the nature of ursus, how he sought with regularity to separate wheat from chaff. and this allblack saint, this satyr come to them — merrick wanted another look beneath the man's skull at the rotating cogs. 
"there's a fox around here. he looks like a stormcloud. i want him." simple enough, and a laugh tipped earp's way besides.