Petra froze on the spot, facing the man as her left leg was on one step and her right leg was extended back on the step above. Upon seeing the main aim his gun at her, she raised her hands slightly in the air. This is what she had feared would happen if she handled this clumsily. 

Although her head was slightly lowered, her eyes were glaring up at the man, maintaining eye contact with him. She cocked her head in the direction of her belt which holsters her axe and knife. "What you see is what I have," she said calmly. "I heard a noise come from the stairwell. I came to see what it was," she explained, her voice holding a noticeable Slavic accent. When communicating with strangers, she forced herself to speak slowly so she wouldn't mess up her words. And right now, a slip up could cost her a bullet to the head. "I used to live here," she finally added. 

Petra knew the key to keeping this situation under control was to remain calm. She didn't have the best people skills but she also wasn't stupid. She figured, best case scenario, this guy would come to his senses and lower his gun. Perhaps join with her to find some place with resources. Or answers. Or maybe he had a camp. Petra wasn't entirely optimistic but she knew she had to justify her reasoning for surviving alone on that rooftops for weeks. It had to be for something. She also knew what the worst case scenario would be for this situation: she didn't need to amuse that thought.