"Nope," the soldier replies, easy, sliding his pistol back where it belongs. He secures the flap of the holster, makes sure the gun isn't primed to fire. In these kind of tight quarters, he's better off using his knife anyway. Less of a waste. "Unless it tries to make a chew toy out of me. Then we might have words."

John doesn't mind dogs at all, had actually been fascinated by mushers during his brief stint as a civilian. He doesn't know much about pitbulls, but it doesn't look dangerous. Not hiding like that.

He hikes his makeshift backpack higher on his shoulder, a few cans of food and a couple clothing items already weighing it down. At this point, he's scavenging more for containers than anything else. The canteen on his hip can only hold one quart of water at a time, after all. "Noticed anything edible around here?"