Val released his gun and reached into his coat to whip out the stack of letters he had. He began to flip through it,

"James Anderson, hmm no. Ah Ferd... Smith, Christ above those limey bastards really have no imagination. Ambrose Tull and Richard Barker." Val put remaining letters back in his coat and handed out the named letters, keeping his own hidden away.  

"Strong man, I'd probably ease up there with those Frankenstein mitts you call hands. I found a drawer filled with letters addressing, who I assume to be the people sent here for this little investi-whatever, I don't think it's," Val flourished his hands searching for fancier word before settling, "Unfair to ask who you are. This is Ferd over here and I'm Val. I'm not sure exactly what in the little baby Jesus' name is going on here either, but obviously some serious shit went down in this place.

Val kept both hands out, trying to convey what he thought was innocence. The eyes of the man named Barker shifted quickly between Ferd and Val as seemed to be trying to decipher them. The tall man named Ambrose, which definitely seemed too upper class for boxer, was an interesting fellow. Apparently a good boxer and well spoken, an intriguing combo. Val hoped that these aren't the kind of folks to rock the boat too hard, he really just wanted this adventure to hit the breaks a little bit.