Alexandria watched as the boy drew a blade, and un-confidently pointed it at her. She sighed inwardly and looked him over once or twice. He was a sad sight, he had been or actually, still was crying quite a bit. He looked tired and hurt, physically mentally and emotionally. He made Alexandria sick. Knowing people could be so cruel, and fate so unfair that a person could end in such a state, seemed unjust. She looked to his blade, then to him, her eyes trying to connect with his, trying to tell him something, 'don't be afraid'. She took a slow "step" forward, coming closer to him. She inched closer and closer very slowly, and very submissively. Her face didn't change the whole time, her small monotone frown remained, her eyes locked onto his, not saying much other than, 'don't be afraid.' She arrived within very close proximity of the knifes tip. She had a few questions for him, who are you? What happened? Why are you here? Yet she chose the one she felt mattered most. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice was hushed and empty, it came with years of doing little speaking, and from a person who had said little even before then. She stood there, waiting silently for his response, not giving any judgment to his tears, or to his hostility.