Armend leaned against a small wooden post, surrounded by shafts of midday sun and the squawking of those in terror. He kept his face serious for the most part, but in truth he felt a little worry in his stomach. In his experiences, gunshots in the distance were usually military coos or a group of people giving "fuck all" to the local government, and that always ended very badly for everyone involved. He did have serious doubts that this was the case in this country, but the small sour tinge of anxiety still left a bad taste in his mouth. The bleeding had stopped on his forehead, but he felt the slight tickle of a concussion, and this only helped escalate his own bizarre thoughts on the matter.

	He was thrown back suddenly into the conversation when one of the Japanese women targeted him, and Albania. He looked at her fairly confused, “eh, vhat?” He looked around, but received little help in the way of the others.

	“I know dis not important but Albania vas never a part of Russia, not even cloz,” He shook his head, “but despite dis lez talk about the… trouble.”

	He sighed and shifted his weight, “you all… scared, yes?” He nodded his head and looked at everyone individually behind concerned blue eyes, “by logjikë… eh, Logic. We can azzume the gunshots in distance vere for similar situations or maybe open battle. We can send people to check but not make move vithout.. eh.. information.”

	He felt slightly stupid trying to communicate in English, and if one stared past his steely sharp gaze, they might see a little bit of embarrassment. With little more to say he stopped and slapped his sides to end his point, his hand ricocheting off a small black device on his belt. He nodded, “det is my idea at least.”