Oh, he's a sinner indeed and the shadow behind him reeks of death. Multiple deaths. He carries them with him, chasing on his heels, a never ending reminder of what he's done. Even the heavy rains will not wash away the blood that Goodnight has drowned himself in over the years.

He pauses when he sees the man. The guitar catches his attention more than anything else. He wonders for a moment where he got it and if there might be a piano there. But pianos were frivolous things. Right now, what he needs is to get the sort of supplies they need at the homestead to make it through the storm in case things went bad quickly.

It would be impolite to keep just gaping at the stranger though. It's easiest to put on his best manners. Sometimes, it's not even an act. He was raised right after all. "I'm afraid so. I only just arrived recently. Not exactly the place I thought I was going to be headed. More rain, not enough brimstone for one." Perhaps he had admitted too much, but for some reason, it came out like that. It's not like he's ever hidden that he understands where he had been headed. Goodnight honestly thinks he deserves it.