#enough.......

small town gothic.

"Yes... Yes, of course you're running low on gas." It's unfortunate for the both of them; Konstantin doesn't recognize the man. There's disdain when it's an outsider in the area, a strange air that seems to settle over the town when someone who clearly doesn't belong finds themselves passing through. And it's always this: some inconvenience, low on gas, a flattened tire, exhaustion and in need of a night of sleep. It's never a deliberate visit.

Pleasantville is pleasant in the way that it seems docile from the outside looking in, quiet, a population of familiar faces. Somehow, however, everyone knowing one another is not as comfortable as it may seem.

If this stranger were paying close attention, maybe he might've noted the residents' lingering gazes while he drove by, if he'd seen any of them out and about. Konstantin watches him pitifully.

Giving him directions could be sending him off to a strange fate. It could also land him on the mortuary table.

"I'd suggest driving to the next town over, if you think you can make it," they suggest, a little too nonchalantly. "But if you can't make that drive - ... Don't you have someone you can meet in the area? Nearby?"

Okay. Bad call. That could land two bodies on mortuary tables.