The people who had gone into hiding tentatively began extracting themselves from their hiding spots whilst looking around to make sure the flying death sentence had truly left.
Inside the shanty the young one looked at the old man who was returning the tin cup to the shelf it almost fell off, then rummaging through a ruck sack near the makeshift bed of wood pallets and newspapers, a mixture of emotions rushing though his body as he made sense of what he had just witnessed, having never seen such a thing before.
The old man produced another tin cup and a hip flask twisting the cap off and pouring a bit into the two cups before lifting the flask to his lips and taking a swig, placing the cap back on he stashed the flask away again before picking up the two cups.
Offering one to the young one, taking it the young one stared at the contense, a gold potent smelling liquid swirled in the cup uttering "thanks" as he lifted the