"Fuck! Get the fuck off me!" The body she ran into shouted with an Irish accent and pushed back at her with quite a bit of strength. A case of knocking her down even as he fell backwards into the water-soaked ground. Ground that was only not completely mud-churned by the grace of God and a heavy layer of fallen leaves and other detritus. The man she ran into had a knife out in the next instant, holding it defensively in front of him.

The rain had already soaked him to the bone, making the black peacoat he wore hang limply over his shoulders and his black mock-turtle cling to his chest pretty tightly. Short hair got plastered to his head, as well. He looked about as water-logged as one could be without drowning in it. Off his shoulders were the straps of a backpack similar to the one Beth found.

When he was down and caught his breath, and managed to get a good look at her, the glare he'd had softened into surprise and worry, "Uh... Shit. Sorry. You okay, lass?"