"Not something I often carry." The tatterdemalion was sprawled across the floor, (as all normal people do when faced with the challenge of too many chairs to choose from, or at least contrary people), but he was mildly interested in her fear, sitting up a bit more to observe it, almost to hungrily drink it in. This was why he was never invited to the good parties.

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave? Does it really make any difference where you are? Does anyone care; will you be missed?"

That was an incredibly rude question, but Jonathan didn't seem to care; he'd asked ruder, he supposed.