[centre][h3][color=8493ca]Henry Charlton[/color][/h3][/centre]

The three stood in a sort of triangle, eyeing each other with hands never far from weapons.  Finally the other man, whom Henry had assumed could not speak English (largely as he had not unto this point), lowered his rifle and spoke to them in heavily accented, but nevertheless fluent, English.  To help continue the diffusion of the stand-off, Henry sheathed his own sabre slowly and deliberately.  These days it never paid to make quick movements; everyone was understandably quite jumpy when weapons were being waved about.

"Why don't we make up for it by making some introductions?"  He asked, in response to the Russian man's question.  Henry had found that, in stressful situations like these, his teacher-mannerisms helped diffuse difficult situations; calm and transparent always helped foster what little trust there was to spare.

"My name's Henry. Henry Charlton. I'm... I was a primary school teacher, from England.  I've been looking for a trainee I had with me when, y'know, it all happened."  He interrupted any comments about the potential success rate of such a venture. "I know, it's a long shot but there isn't much else to keep me going.  I'm sure you guys have something similar, or else you wouldn't still be here. Or if you were, you'd be like [i]them[/i]."  He did not need to elaborate on to who/what he was referring to.

"In any case, I've got a little water, some fuel and a portable stove but not much else worthwhile.  I was going to make a trip to the corner shop a bit further up there," he was pointing up the path behind the Russian, "and see if they have any dried meats or heatable meals left.  The signs on it are pretty vague so most people leave it alone, I think."