Samuel Bryant
Sam's light began to flicker as he moved it away from the woman on the floor with the guitar, and to the sound of yet another woman's voice. He didn't move other than shaking the light a bit to jostle the batteries inside, causing the steady, yet weak, stream of light to focus on the newest woman that poked her head out. Jesus.... he thought, noticing the guns hanging around the woman and the one strapped to her thigh.
Diverting his attention from the woman for a moment, Sam noticed he was the barrier between his fiery-haired hostess and the new woman's guns. She trusts me to protect her already..? He thought, before coming to the most likely conclusion of him being her walking bullet catcher. Letting out a bit of a sigh, he registered Kenleigh's name to memory as she introduced herself from her relatively sheltered position behind him. "I'm usually dreaming when when I'm stuck in some random lot with women all around me..." Unfortunately for Sam, he realized too late that he said that part out loud, and for the three women to hear. "Whoops...sorry..." He apologized for the second time in at least a few minutes for his mouth. There really wasn't anything wrong with it in his mind, but he figured he was being a bit inappropriate for the current audience. Not that I care, I'm just glad there are people still walking and breathing....even if they are all planning to shoot me...
"Sam." He called out, loud enough to be heard by the woman a little ways away with the guitar, as well as the woman who reminded him of a walking armory. He turned slightly to give an awkward wave behind himself at Kenleigh, still sheltering behind him. Focusing his attention back to the woman about to use him as target practice, he gave a small shrug. "If I did have a gun on me, it wouldn't really matter, would it now Rambo? If you want to shoot me, then shoot me. Wouldn't be the first woman to throw that suggestion out...."
"See the trend you started here?" Sam whispered to Kenleigh, referring to her being the first one to insinuate shooting him today. I could think of worst ways to die. Honestly. He remembered they weren't exactly alone at the moment, and felt they were overlooking another presence in the room. "Oi, Taylor Swift!" He called over to the guitar-wielding woman. "Should Live Free or Die Shootin' here shoot me before or after she lets me look at the gash on her hand?"