Writing prompt, on traps.

I was writing dialogue in a completely different story, and a few words leapt out and took a life of their own. They needed a new story, and so, here they are, like a gem in a new setting, waiting for someone, somewhere, to take them and run with them (or maybe me, in another decade):



"The old man leaned back in his chair. It creaked as the front legs lifted from the floor, and a gentle clunk as the back touched the wall. He crossed his legs, got comfortable. Bit a little chunk off the long blade of grass hanging from his mouth and absently spat it to the floor. He adjusted his hat before finally looking the boy square in the eyes and speaking in his slow drawl, 'Son, I don't know anything about what you've just asked me. But I do know a trap when I see one. I know you're not no hunter. That means you're either the bait, or the prey. I don't got any answer, neither. If I was you, I'd quit sniffing around and hightail it before the jaws close."