Eyes glance, curiosly and cautiously, at the canteen. His mind questions desires, motives and reasons, the aims of such friendliness. Befriending someone, helping them out of pity, priming them for questions or favours. But his fingers are already reaching out - his sheepish expression betraying his mood as he claims the canteen.

Seconds pass while he unscrews the lid. This man is regimented, communicative, rooted in his community. Perhaps his kindness is to feel secure?

"Thanks. This weather isn't par for the course where I'm from."