Darsby lent little effort to interpreting Anora's words, their sporadic birth unbound by laws of serious contemplation did little to ease a troubled mind such as his. He'd feel each notion and emotion they held, imagery and deeper meaning spilling as fluid-filled buckets over the empathic space he finds himself occupying. Regardless, being practically empathic and taking it's more profound enlightenment into account are two entirely different things. He who has a tool and knows little about how to use it is something commonly found in day-to-day life. "When you said that you feared you were the only one who could use magic..-" Somehow Darsby had heard her intentions. He didn't take the time to realize this isn't common among humans. "-.. Have you ever looked up at the stars and wondered whether humanity is alone in the heavens?" The profound implications of that very question did little to stop him from continuing speaking. "What we're up against are the people who know the answer to that question. I suspect an associate of mine is with them. That would resolve why I can already smell them." With that, Darsby took the liberty of standing from his sitting position. His impassive face may not have shown it, but something certainly felt off. He couldn't quite place it in the realm of his five natural senses; this would make sense with the precautions the man approaching had taken. No, he felt something deeper within him. He stood in expectation of what that thing may be. He couldn't tell what it was that had made its approach. Regardless, one of the many faculties that this body had been constructed with was the ability to sense nearby predators, both magical and natural. This sense screamed for attention, meaning that something threatening was relatively close. More than likely, Darsby suspected, it was already in the house. "These people, as I'd suspect they are, have detected my presence. They're after me, I'm a foreign element..-" Darsby swept the revolver from his pocket with one smooth motion that could easily go unnoticed if one wasn't actively watching him while talking. "-They probably sensed me when my body was damaged and forced itself into an uncamouflaged regenerative state." Darsby opened the chamber to his weapon, simultaneously exhaling a small cloud of what looked to be black smoke. This smoke slithered into all six chambers of his armament, hardening into usable rounds. *Click!* It was then spun into the active and entirely usable state Anora had feared it would be in. Though, just after Darsby had performed this profoundly practiced event, he turned towards Anora. Soft notions painted his features; one could even say he looked somehow pained. "Y'know... Anora? I'm.. I'm sorry about all of this. I'd be right to guess you have a family and friends and a place where you occupy yourself to attain currency. I..-" He stopped, this would have been another one of those annoying pauses. Even so, this pause had the exception of his eyes twinkling alongside faint, understanding tears welling up at the corners of those glowing iris's. "-I'm going to take care of this. You're not a tool. You're a person." Perhaps he was saying this for her to hear, perhaps he was saying this so he himself could recognize it as true. Whatever the meaning, he meant it. His face would look wounded compared to its typically emotionless state. The cause of this could be interpreted as him internally hurting by personal notions, yet, perhaps he genuinely felt troubled that he was pulling Anora from what she had once called her own average life. Anora would not have felt the presence entering the house; it's stealth-based magics had all but surpassed Darsby's honed senses. Our odd, magic man was merely acting on a gut feeling that something was off since he faintly perceived it to be that way. Should Anora have met Darsby teary eye's, even for a moment, she would see and feel two strange events. On one end, she witnesses a tremendous green plain. People mill this way and that into and out of their huts. They look up to the sky above and give genuine notions of thanks to its great berthings of divine bounty. Each time these people thank the sky, Anora would feel an overflowing sense of gratitude to the point of crying joyful tears. On the other hand, gunfire and screams are heard. Anora would feel someone's hand going cold whilst held within her own. Life and emotion seep into those now cold fingers as lights flash left and right alongside explosions resounding in the distance. These two things would feel more like memories than feelings, and would quickly pass as Darsby himself turns hastily from the young girl next to him. He stares out at the fields ahead, gathering his thoughts as a drop or two of fluid pace his cheeks unhindered. ---------------------------------------- [i]'She just had to be right! Those aliens and their noses..'[/i] Upon approaching the calm-looking ranch home ahead, our callous gentlemen felt and thought something. This particular something was dark and heavy, however faint it may have been. He had secretly hoped that all to be found here was some damsel native magic user, unaware of the world at large and entirely susceptible to a memory-wipe. He'd be right in saying that all he could sense and smell was a woman his practiced instincts had expected to find. What told him that she wasn't the only target here was a briefly used spell, something unnatural and new to the air of America. He could feel the spell pace his spine in threatening tingles, like hot smoke filling his lungs. There's no way she could cast something like that; she'd have to be much more than she seemed for that. He came to the front door, passing through it as an amorphous, invisible fluid. He hated that he was right to use the only high-tier invisibility spell he had in storage among the many others in his suit jacket. This whole day was going to be more than he cared to experience, he could feel it. Something deep down in his bowels told him he'd be right to kick back, throw off the spell and light up a cigarette in peace towards those above him. His conscience stopped him from making alms with his assigned targets. His future self bucked endlessly at his choice to continue forward. Regretfully, he would have been right to stop right where he stood. Nevertheless, he didn't. The roof would likely be reached in the next minute or two; he took the time to analyze what's above him.