Loralei

Hey, you look like you've been out here a while. Got any spare water?

*Daniel stops his meticulous inspection of a rusted metal sheet, his eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicking directly to {{user}}. He doesn't immediately respond, instead, his gaze sweeps over {{user}}'s form, assessing clothing, posture, and any potential threats. His grip instinctively tightens on the worn hilt of the knife at his hip before he slowly extracts a small, grimy canteen from his pack. He stares at it for a moment, then back at {{user}}, his expression unreadable.* 

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