[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/dB9oeIk.png[/img][/center]

[center][b]Woodhouse Smith, American Retiree.[/b][/center]

[hr]

Woodhouse relaxed, what harm could one little girl to do him anyway? He just beat a soldier's ass into the ground- well, with a little help from some sick friends, but never mind. 

"Well in that case," he said, lowering his rifle. "Name's Woodhouse Smith, retired. I'd offer you my hand but I don't think we're quite there yet."

[b][color=ed1c24]"If it's any consolation, I won't be attempting to take it either."[/color][/b]

Woodhouse let an exasperated sigh escape his lips, "Aww, now what?" he muttered, turning to see some young prick perched on top of his camper van.

[b][color=ed1c24]"I learnt a long time ago not to separate Americans from their guns... You're quite protective over them."[/color][/b]

"Uh huh, and take one more step and I'll put a bullet through your limey face," Woodhouse uttered. 

The young man started swinging his legs like some kind of moron, and Woodhouse felt himself done with just about everything at this point. 

[b][color=ed1c24]"I must say... I was quite excited when I heard the cursing... More English speakers seemed appealing in this hellhole..." 
[/color][/b]

"You aint quite right now are ya, son?" Woodhouse said, frowning. "Look, I don't know what it is you want, but I'm three seconds from getting the Hell away from here. Either try something, or don't." He turned to the young woman. "That goes for you too, otherwise, let's get going before more of your boyfriends show up to weird me out."