It's really bothering you, and you figure you have an hour to investigate. No more, though; you don't want to get distracted.
The farmhouse is wooden, with a slightly-crooked door and a poorly-maintained chicken house out back. The farming you could maybe chalk up to not knowing better, but the chicken wire's been left to bow outward. It was set up properly, so there's no excuse for not fixing little things like that.
When you raise your hand to knock, you hear an argument from inside. You lean in to listen. In your own world some people might see it as being nosy, but since you're not going to understand the details of it, you figure you get a pass.
The tones and voices imply it's an older man yelling at a younger one. The younger man lets himself get cut off a few times by the older one, but eventually explodes. You couldn't say for sure, but you think you're learning some words you're going to have to un-learn for polite company. The basics of the argument seem to be that the older man thinks the younger is lazy, and the younger thinks the older is expecting too much. You try not to take a side before you can understand the argument better, but if the older man expects the other to take care of all this farmland by himself, you can see why they're fighting.
With an exclamation that you're completely sure you shouldn't use in front of women, the younger man stomps over to the door. You quickly step backward, making it look like you've just gotten to the front door. With any luck, he'll think you didn't hear anything.
The younger man throws open the door, steps outside, and slams it shut behind him. He gets a few steps before he notices you, and stops short.
"Who are you?" He demands, rocking back on his feet.
The man is short, stocky, with sandy brown hair and eyes a few shades darker. The shirt and trousers he wears are dark green and clumsily patched, but look like they were nice once. He's got a square jaw and the kind of muscle you only get from hard work. You'd normally try touching his mind to get a sense of him, but you don't know that your active psionics are going to work the way you want them to. The irrelevant thought pops into your mind that Yale would probably like him; he's always gone for the boys with tempers.
This boy with a temper, though, is waiting for your name.
[x] Write-in name: Hiro
[ ] Avoid the question
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