Sven spun around when he heard a voice behind him, and a hand instinctively went for one of the hatchets he was carrying. A bit of a silly movement, he realized. Anything in this city that wanted him dead wouldn't have given him a warning. Just a blade to the back of the head, or some equally brutal and abrupt end to his life. He'd seen that treatment just before his escape, and was glad to have been spared it. Simply being alive did little to quell the jumpiness he was feeling, however. Sven quickly raised both hands to hopefully prevent reactive retaliation, and after giving a motion of his head meant as a non-verbal apology, he finally spoke up.<br/><br/>"Crawled out through that window," He answered, pointing towards the shattered glass. The crane's hook was still wrapped around the iron bars that previously blocked off the storage room, wrapped around the meeting point of the crossed metal twice and secured by the hook. "One of those big bastards caught me and a few others off guard. Sent me flying into the room, and made short work of the door." He lowered his hands, and took a peek over the edge towards the outside of the building he'd just escaped. As he'd feared, he counted a number of mangled bodies matching that of his squad, minus himself. "Looks like the others didn't get so lucky."<br/><br/>With a heavy breath, he backed up and turned to Leo again. "I, ah, don't suppose you might be able to help me down? I'm hardly a climber. Too stumpy," He explained, outstretching his arms to emphasize their proportion. Honestly, he didn't look nearly as small as he was describing himself, but the weight of the mail he was dressed in would throw him off. He wasn't used to prancing about with all this extra weight, especially not at a height that could possibly kill him.