Izzy's request for Holden to turn over any knives he may still have on him wasn't met with any sort of haste. He looked at her warily, perhaps studying her expression for any signs of intent. His gaze was as oppressive as ever, almost accusatory. Finally he glanced away, sighing deeply and seemingly settling into oblige her request. Izzy couldn't help but sense a distinct note of hurt in his sigh. Had she offended him in some way?

"Very well." He said, below his breath.

Holden emptied his pockets, rolled down his sleeves, unhooked a few items from the inside of his waistband, and even pulled something out from his sock. After having collected several Swiss army knives, pen knives, multitools, and even a spring-loaded comb, he dumped them all into Izzy's hands. He didn't complain as he did this, but his expression was still quite sour.

"There, are you satisfied?" He said, that strange tone of unhappiness still in his voice. "Look after them, I'll expect them back." He glanced up toward the building for a moment, before looking back at Izzy and saying, "I don't know what you've heard, but I'm my family isn't as wealthy as you might think. I'm really not worth committing a crime over."