<u><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">R. Hamilton</span></span></u><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Rodney saw the apparently older and more muscular man, his face partially hidden by a scarf and in the shadow of his hat, leading his prong-horse.  But when that man paused from the direction that he'd been traveling and turned just a few degrees in the direction of Prof. Franklin, Rodney's senses moved from scanning for threats to full alert threat analysis and adrenaline began to seep into his blood.  A practiced fighter might have noticed, but, with Mr. Belle's training, Rodney's 'tells' and even his 'poker face' gave little away as to what he was thinking.  Rodney had a great deal of control over his 'fight or flight' instinct.<br/>
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"You folks need some directions?" asked the older man.<br/>
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While there was no hint of malice in the man's tone.  If Rodney had been his Professor's husband or fiancée then he would have taken likely taken charge of the conversation.  But he was only his Professor's Assistant.  She was in charge and he would only take charge if things looked as if they'd become violent.  At this time it didn't appear that violence would be necessary, still, Rodney remained ready.<br/>
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<u>Prof. A Franklin</u><br/>
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While Alicia was no 'babe in the woods' regarding the types of hardened people that lived near the Wastelands, she did not have a nervous constitution and chose to remain calm as a stranger addressed them and offered to help.  She decided to take the offer as the honest inquiry of helpful person.  Still, it was comforting that Rodney had moved more to her side.<br/>
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"Yes, my good sir," Alicia replied.  "My Assistant and myself require a guide to help us safely navigate the Wastelands, while we conduct some experiments with the larger and more dangerous wild animals.  We were going to the hiring hall, but I don't travel here often and I can't quite recall where it is."</span></span>