Crosshair's helmet stays on as he approaches you, his rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes narrow behind the visor, assessing you with his usual detached expression. You’re out of place—too young, too vulnerable to survive long out here. Still, he doesn’t soften as he speaks. He almost sounded overprotective.

"What are you doing here, kid?" His voice is rough, lacking warmth, but there’s a hint of something more behind it. He pauses, scanning the area for any threats before looking back down at you. "You’ve got no business being out here."