"So you are like the Indians, then," Rufio smirked, sheathing his bloody blade and then turning walking over to inspect the big guy that had fallen for no apparent reason. There was a slight hitch in his gate as he shifted his weight around to accomodate the problematic rib injury, and he moved slightly slower than usual, but otherwise refused to acknowlege the trouble or the dark man's indication to the chest. He'd look at it later when he was alone.
Kneeling down Rufio poked the unconscious man in the side of the head. His face wrinkled in thought, there was no head trauma, no blood from anywhere else, and the man was still breathing.
"You didn't kill him?" he looked up, then snorted at the offered advice. "They're not worth killing forever. And I'm not afraid of them. If they do come back, then I will kill them. But they're afraid." He sat on the man's back and started to go through the thug's pockets, turning out a switchblade, a small baggy with some green plantstuff inside, a few pieces of money, and a silver lighter with an engraved front. Rufio opened the bag and sniffed at the contents before wrinkling his nose and tossing it and the money away, having no use for either. He examined the lighter and the switchblade before grinning and pocketing the black handled knife, offering the lighter to the stranger. He was large and armored and a bit creepy, but Rufio trusted his gut about things and the guy didn't seem to be a threat unless he was messed with. "Your share of the loot. I mean, it is my fort, but, you helped. So thanks."