Ah... yes. He was. [It's more of a complicated situation, now, but he supposes he still ought to view the man as his father to some degree.] And I do appreciate the vote of confidence. I'll do my best to live up to it.

[He isn't entirely sure where he can scavenge for rations that hasn't already been picked clean, but his gaze eventually settles on a building that seems relatively untouched and he starts off in that direction.]

Ventus, then. [Formality first and foremost.] I am Brother Martin. But I suppose just Martin will do, now.

[The page about him on the board had listed him as Martin Septim, in any case, but it's far easier for him to err on the side of caution in regards to that. Besides, the name feels too strange to claim as his own. Even just Martin is still strange to hear, after so long, but he supposes he'll have to drop the Brother title eventually. It means nothing here.

He glances over his shoulder briefly as they walk, a thought occurring to him.]

Should the others see us searching for seeds and assume we're tampering with the rations-- I trust you're familiar enough with diplomacy to keep us both from being stabbed.

[...He was never really good at anything but dark humor. It's more apparent here, and it masks some real sense of paranoia concerning the other townsfolk trapped here with them.]