Izzy warily watched Holden as he followed her and locked the door. At least it had an actual lock on the inside. She tried unsuccessfully to keep her unease from her face at being blocked from a quick getaway if she needed.
	She moved her hands in her pockets so her thumbs hung just inside them. She opened her mouth to ask, “Well?” but Holden spoke before she could, her brows rising at his opening statement.
	She returned his glare firmly, refusing to let him get to her. She frowned as he sighed, but he did not give her the chance to object, to assure him she had not thought about going to any of them. The fewer people involved in any way, the better. All too often, questions gave birth to suspicion.
	Izzy cocked her head slightly when he looked back to her. She crossed her arms at his demand, and gave a quick nod, but his first confirmation gained him a look that said, “Tell me something I [i]haven’t[/i] figured out.” She blinked in shock at his minimal weight, biting her tongue against asking him [i]how[/i] that happened. Thankfully, he had the foresight to answer the unspoken question, Izzy impatiently waiting for him to continue when he paused, never looking away from him.
	A slight sense of relief flooded through her; the energy Cerasus had brought with him had not been the cause of Holden’s unusual ailment.
	“A crab?” she could not help but ask, making sure she had heard him correctly. [i]That’s different.[/i] Izzy shifted her stance, leaning her weight against one foot, listening closely as he continued.
	That he knew her name did not surprise her, but her back straightened and her jaw squared at his tone and rhetorical question. Her stare hardened and she moved her arms to her sides. When he reached into a pocket, she took a single step back, ready to defend herself.
	Her gaze darkened as she glared at the knife he brandished, more anger than fear filling her emerald eyes at being threatened. In comparison to every other threat she had dealt with the past few months, a neigh weightless human with a three-inch pocketknife was practically laughable. But a blade was a blade, and desperation with a weapon, even a small one, was never a good combination.
	She glanced between his gaze and the knife as he continued speaking, snorting lightly at him not wanting her to get the wrong idea. She scowled when he finished, finally giving her the chance to answer.
	“Keeping a secret’s no problem,” she began, her voice as hard as her gaze, her muscles tense and ready to react if he decided to come at her. “And if you don’t want me to be your friend, then fine. But I don’t do apathy. I can [i]help you,[/i] Holden. I know a thing or two about the strange and unexplainable. Trust me on that. So how about you put that,” she jerked her head at the multitool, “away, and we'll figure this out together?”