Graham simply smiled at the weirdo and pointed his shotgun at the apparent leader of the bandits. "Please, tell me what sort of gift will save you from a load of buckshot to the chest?" The bandit glared at him and pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes. "I understand you needed a map? Unhand my lackey and hand over the piece you were tinkering with, and any notes you made on it, and the map is yours." Graham stared at him for a few seconds. Religious sort by the looks of it. Surprisingly coherent, most he had met were fanatics who worshiped old world tech like it was a gift from the gods, always a bother when they refuse to let him inspect the ruins. "And what, my man of faith, do you intend to do with this particular piece of tech?"
Like hell I'm going to hand this thing to anyone.
"That is of no concern to you. Just know that many of my order would rather kill you on sight for that piece. Hand it over and we will never see each other again."
"So my options are to let you have this one of a kind relic many scavengers would die for or deal with slightly more lunatics on a regular basis? It seems you underestimate my tolerance for insanity."
Yeah, brilliant, taunt the nutjobs.
The next second one of the bandits reached for Graham. The second after that one of the bandits was missing a good portion of his upper chest, neck and lower jaw.