Kiori was caught off guard by Rylee's response. Ask a question, get an answer; that was the way his world had worked up until now. He had forgotten that without the shroud of fear that covered him as an assassin, people had to earn their answers from one another through trust and conversation. A more appropriate way to continue the conversation would be-- Kiori cut his own thoughts short. Was he really unable to hold a conversation except as an outsider mimicking the behaviors of others? He had lost more of himself to the guild than he thought... No, it wasn't quite lost, he had just misplaced it. Already, hearing his best friend's voice was reviving a part of himself that he had almost forgotten he had. "You're right," he said at last, "that's no way to greet a friend. But just so you don't hold it against me, you drew first." There, at least he remembered how to parry her sarcastic thrusts.

Rylee was vague in saying why she left her guild, though. Kiori wasn't happy with that answer at all and he was about to press her further on it, but checked himself. He hadn't even put his swords away, and here he was popping up out of thin air after fourteen years and demanding that she justify her actions to him. The next thing Kiori reclaimed was common courtesy; he was acting like a pretty big jerk. Twelve-year-old Kiori would have stood by Rylee unconditionally, and asked questions later if it even mattered to him. Finally Kiori took a deep breath and sheathed his swords. 

"I guess I'm not really one to criticize," Kiori said in a stoic voice as he walked over to help Rylee off the ground. "As of this moment I'm no longer a member of the Assassin's Guild, though I would imagine my reason is quite a bit simpler than yours." He said the words, he knew they were true, and yet it didn't feel real. He had every right to be panicked, to cower in solitude in vain hope that he'd be overlooked. But somehow, whether it was because of his mental conditioning or some unknown factor within his being, he was still completely calm. Then, his cold, calculating mind got a crazy idea. "All things considered, I'm not to keen on rolling over to die either. The longest that it's ever taken an assassin to kill a target is twelve days. What do you say Rye, want to try to beat that record?"