Roswell

"Roswell, what's the hardest part of being the sheriff? Do you have any anecdote about your job you want to share?"

The rusty Pearlcatcher shakes off some sand, turning to you with a sound like scraping stone as its joints move - the bird on its shoulder ruffles its feathers and tweets, answering instead. "Well! There's definitely some difficulties in being the one to punish and jail troublemakers. Mostly in that, well, I ain't the most liked in Cloudy Coast..." They scratch their head with their wing, looking awkwardly to the side. "You see, a lot of the travelers that come through the area don't have the cleanest past. They keep a bit of an eye on me, so to speak. But, I mean, as long as nobody causes trouble in the city then they won't get in trouble with me."

Their chest feathers puff out as they straighten up in an almost proud expression. "The residents of this city sure do appreciate me, though, and that makes it worthwhile! I try to do my job dutifully and fairly, and seems I'm doin' it pretty well. I ain't the only law in the city, either... but wearing this badge means a lot to me and I'm fit for the job as any other dragon-golem-er... being."

(As for an anecdote, you inquire, Roswell launches into a tizzy about a particularly dim-witted set of travelers who ended up getting stuck in a time loop - what? - and robbing the bank, blowing up the mine, and ultimately saving the town from a colossal worm... Or, maybe you just heard them incorrectly; the story does sound a bit ridiculous, nay, impossible. But you wonder...)