Somehow they both scored nat 20 spot checks, and their eyes rivet to that badge.

"You're the sheriff?" Butch's tone is layered in chauvinistic disbelief that's easy to detect even with a crit failed sense motive. "Huh." Another piece of spittle goes sailing into the snow bank. "Surprised you haven't heard about this thing yet, then. Supposedly it ripped up a hiker something good. Didn't leave much left."

It's got fangs. Razor sharp ones.