Virgil's eyes show a bright smile; as he opens his arms in greeting; a gesture that was used by most tradesmen to insure that their intent, "Ah, hello! I see that you are injured, and I see that you may require some help. So, I will do so. Come! Take a seat on the cart. I assure you that the Mammarmot will not attack you." The trader's accent explained, readily enough, that he wasn't exactly from the outlaying areas at all. He then gave the man an appraising eye. One could tell he was gauging just how dangerous Steve was. And, frankly? Seeing how badly banged up he was, the tradesman had no problem helping. As the Church of the Gun says 'without weapons a man is harmless' which was untrue. But then again.<br/><br/>The man, who was quite little by most standards, seems much more pleased to have met someone who wasn't overly concerned with this entire 'gritty wasteland' mumbojumbo. And he was offering a free ride; it seemed.<br/><br/>"You appear to have been injured heavily, and are without weapons. I must warn you sahr, that if this is a trap. I have no problems killing you," he still smiled with his eyes, a grin glint in them at the moment as he continued on, "However, I can appraise most of their condition and you sir, are far, far too injured to be bait. So; come, I am heading toward the next settlement and could use someone other than my Mammarmot to keep me company."<br/><br/>It seemed lonlieness was a good reason to take on strangers, it seemed.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>