It's just a kid. It's a kid wearing orange, wearing some kind of funky plate on his forehead, and showing no decent level of fear at the sight of a gun. Something tells Sawyer it's not because the kid's been desensitized to guns, either. More likely a lack of experience than anything else.
He breathes, shaking his head with a slight frown. He's not really in the mind to add yet another person onto the list of those he looks out for in the city. He can only realistically spread his net so far.
"Threats shaped like people. What else am I gonna draw if I can't even tell who's all in charge of this place?" he asks, raising a brow. "I know how to fight people. If it's somethin' else, I'm probably screwed to begin with."
He rubs at his nose, slightly runny in the cold, with his sleeve.
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Date: 2014-01-11 10:02 pm (UTC)He breathes, shaking his head with a slight frown. He's not really in the mind to add yet another person onto the list of those he looks out for in the city. He can only realistically spread his net so far.
"Threats shaped like people. What else am I gonna draw if I can't even tell who's all in charge of this place?" he asks, raising a brow. "I know how to fight people. If it's somethin' else, I'm probably screwed to begin with."
He rubs at his nose, slightly runny in the cold, with his sleeve.
"Name's Sawyer."