He crouched on the platform near the edge. Not too near, since he didn't want to fall, but close enough to look at the depression without being too vulnerable.
Trowa wasn't worried about the old man. For one thing, he was an acrobat. For another, the old man would have no idea how to pilot Heavyarms, and he doubted that there was any other reason to try and kill or harm him at this point.
For a third, it might not be wise to attempt to kill him while they still didn't know anything about the numbers on their wrists.
And... there was a man, heading out of the treeline. Breathing somewhat heavily, dressed in a military fashion. Not Preventer. Might, or might not know what a Gundam was.
Trowa turned to look at the old man. "Know who he is?"