I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
In all honesty, Noah was not offended by the man's staring. He was used to being watched--even, at times, oggled--by outlanders. Those from the world outside of Halo were often interested in how the people here lived in this frozen hellscape for so long, and usually without complaint. As the smaller man moved over, Noah gave him a once-over. He didn't seem the type of man to be a hunter, like he and his crowd that had now disbursed, but there were easily detectable callouses on his hands that gave Noah the instant impression he worked some sort of trade. He took another drink, and smiled. "Oh, those were nothing. We didn't even run into any predators today." The statement was lighthearted, and jesting, though there was some truth to it too. The stories the men shared today were tame. "What brings you to the tundra?" He asked, adjusting his seat so he could lean forward on his elbows. Noah assumed that he had come to trade, based on his assumption that the other man worked in some sort of trade. It seemed to be the set of options that outlanders came here -- to see what in the hell was going on in the frozen world, or to try and make money.
NOAH
