A pair of middle aged men enter the barn

Just as Emily was about to get up to find some answers, she spots a pair of men approaching the barn from the opposite side of the sunlight. Both appeared to be locals to her from the look of their grubby checkered shirts, completely creepy with the slightly jutting size of the gut, squarish frames and ugly faces as they seemed to be grinning in her direction. She had the mind to vacate the premises immediately, sensing imminent danger, but she needed to know where she was. She had too many questions to go running off into the middle of nowhere. Keeping herself wary as she sprung up to her feet, pating down bits of hay from her clothes, she stood her ground with arms crossed and legs closed defensively, like a frightened deer as it picks up signs of a nearby threat. The men came closer. She could feel their eyes eating her up as most of her flesh on her arms, legs and belly were exposed.

"Hello there. Glad to see you're finally up," the one to her right greeted her with a gruff sounding voice.

"Hello...." Her clearly British accent meekly cracked out. She peered between two, extremely uncomfortable with their proximity, "Where am I? Who are you?"

"Oh, you can't remember? This here is Bobbie and I'm Johnny." The other American looked surprised as he 'reintroduced' themselves as if they had met, "We picked up your cute little drunk ass at the bar last night. You were passed out like a light. This here is my brother's farm."

"I was what?" Emily blinked, a spark of memory coming back to her. She started to remember she had had a bit too much to drink, "Where was I?"

"At Carol's down the highway," Bobbie answered, "Almost drowned yourself in the bathroom."

She started to vaguely remember being in a bar where she had been drinking and making merry with a small group of people. However, she could not remember their faces. Neither could she clearly remember who they were or what went on that night. She remembered seeing a pair of men fitting their description somewhere there but little else seemed to come back to her. The story seemed so believable. She wanted to believe, convinced by the splitting headache she woke up to, even though she did not remember anything about being in a bathroom.

"You sure you're okay there, Little Emi?" Johnny nudged a nod over at her.

"Huh? What did you call me?" Emily wiggled her head to clear some of the fog.

"Little Emi. That's your name." He answered back plainly.

"Oh, yes.... Little Emi.... That's me. Sorry. It seems like I can't remember anything about what happened last night."