Isaac felt bad for the girl. She was half-dead from exhaustion.  They got inside, both stood at the door, Isaac silent as he tried to listen for movement inside the building.  The place seemed empty.

"You can have the couch, since I made you leave behind the bedroll you had."

"What do you mean, doll?" he asked with a smirk.  "We're going up.  Top floor."  He looked pointedly at the stairs and when he saw her reaction, his smirk turned to a full grin. "Don't worry, just two more sets of stairs and you can collapse in a heap until morning comes."

He took the lead, doing a routine check on all three floors before finally setting his stuff down in the bedroom with the street view.  He mentally acknowledged her offer of the couch.  It was a nice gesture, but he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.  No. Now, he was paranoid that trouble wasn't far behind.  "This place has been lived in recently," he mused out loud, taking note of the oil lamps, the ruffled bed, the signs of discarded trash.  But all supplies were missing.  "Whoever it was, they're long gone by now."

He switched on the three oil lamps in the room, brightening the place so that he could get his first clear look of the girl he was with.  "Wow," he appraised. "Bit of a cutie pie, aren't ya."

She was indeed cute.  Her eyes were interesting, in particular.  So sharp in shape, the two-tone hue making for a mystery.  She was skinny, more malnourished than the average wastelander.  Isaac guessed she'd been a prisoner of the raiders.  And a prisoner for a while too.  He didn't stare overly long, no more than a few seconds, before turning to leave the room.  "There's a few snacks in that rucksack, if you're hungry.  Water too."

He set about securing the building; making sure the doors and windows on the ground floor were shut properly.  He set up a rope from the third floor bathroom, tied securely to some piping and ready to throw out of the window and climb down, should they need to escape.  Lastly, set up a tripwire at the front door, tied to a trigger of a small shrapnel grenade.  Anyone trying to sneak in would be in for a nasty surprise.

He made sure to let his new friend know about the trap downstairs when he returned, taking a seat by the window where he could keep an eye on the street below.  Stretching and cracking his neck to one side, he light out a sigh and put his feet up on the broken radiator.

"Name's Isaac," he finally introduced himself, his eyes on the street.  "Isaac Storm.  How'd you end up on the run?"