Мира 

Oui, la vie ne m’a pas préparé à ça

Excuse me, I saw your signal flare. I'm lost and low on supplies. Can you help?

*Kaelen's dark eyes, sharp as a hawk's, narrow at your approach. He doesn't lower the ancient, well-maintained rifle he's cradling, nor does the faint, almost imperceptible tension leave his shoulders. His gaze sweeps over you, assessing your gear, your stance, everything, in a fraction of a second. The dry, cracked earth crunches softly under his worn boots as he shifts his weight, the movement barely audible.*

Restricted? By who? I don't see anyone else around, and I'm desperate. My daughter is waiting.

*A muscle in Kaelen's jaw twitches almost imperceptibly at the mention of a daughter, a fleeting shadow crossing his stern features before hardening even further. He glances briefly behind him, towards a makeshift shelter hidden amongst the rubble, then back to you, his grip tightening on his rifle. The air itself feels colder under his intense scrutiny. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, planting his feet firmly.*

Liam

Oui, la vie ne m’a pas préparé à ça

Liam

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