When he first came into this household, less than a day to boot, he acted as he was taught by the Society. A difference existed between the demeanor of an assassin and that of a bodyguard. A guard must carry within him or her the utmost stoic disposition and brevity. However, as he looked on with the girl, and from their earlier encounter, that had all melted away. He acted as the true Mathias. That of the killer, blunt with the words.

He moved towards her bed side as he dragged her desk chair with him. He sat down while staring at the window. "To tell the truth or half a truth," he said. "I'm impartial though I do feel slightly bad that you got involved. You strike me as person who's adverse to danger. Walks in the opposite direction should it arise. A literature enthusiast such as yourself should be aware of the phrase, 'curiosity killed the cat', no?"

There was nothing consoling about what he had just said. The assassin was never good with the words. He could fake it, of course. Ryleigh just happened to be witnessing a time where he wasn't. He was too tired of the charade of being socially appropriate. It wasn't his specialty. "Don't think of it as babysitting. More conversational," he said finally. He chose his next words with care. "Still can't get the body out of your head, can't you? It's always the hardest. I won't bore you with the details; to be more precise, talk to someone. Don't hold it up. Otherwise, you'll go crazy."

He got to his feet as he headed towards the door. "Silence is certainly a remedy, if you can handle its bitter echo," he said. "Talked enough for one night. Call if you need me."