Snowman stared over the rocks his food fell off of, saddened by seeing the remains of the last remnants of food he had. Hearing more commotion, he approached investigating. He was obviously former military of some kind, Motor city Militia to be precise, his old worn out jacket and camo cargo pants attesting to his former profession as well as the military hardware he held in his hands, the SMG.
His training kicked in, he stayed low as he approached, his eye down the scope of his SMG. Every step was slow and careful, he tried staying low and behind rubble piles, peering over the top of them as he approached the group. With his stabilizing hand, he allowed a wave of ice shards to flow from his forearm and palm, and he revealed himself fully as the wave flowed towards the opening of the building, hoping to make a makeshift blockade to lock their assailant inside for at least a little bit.
He'd dehydrated himself from the action though, and he'd have to reabsorb that water to continue on. "Bloody Vultures eh?" He said, his accent something of a mixture of Canadian and Californian due to the mixture of cultures with the survivors and slaves in Detroit, his voice raspier now since he'd used the last of his body's usable water to make a frozen doorway.