Armend shot a glance at Danica and lowered his rifle on her advice. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted a slight metallic flush on his tongue, swallowing everything he wanted to say. With a hot sigh he forced a smile, “my apologies. Ve are very jumpy, yes? Not an easy time for anyone.”

	He jutted a chin at Sean, “especially prinzess over zere.” He tried to take a less aggressive stance, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of distrust he felt towards the stranger. With the weapon lowered, he kept it’s nozzle vaguely pointing at the man’s knee and a finger ready to squeeze should he turn violent, a Serbian trick he had seen his own comrades fall for during bum parleys.