Look, the serial killer angel sat down next to him instead of just tearing him to shreds along with every other person in the place, so maybe acting like he's not thinking violent thoughts will let him live a bit longer? He's got no illusions who -- or rather, what -- he is to Knives, just a bit of filth shaped like a man who can be sent out on tasks Knives is above doing himself.

At least, that was his role with the Knives he knew. This one is... different. This one is eating.

"I don't have any money." He's not budging one inch, thanks, although behind those glasses he's taking in every detail of Knives's appearance and behavior, gears -- metaphorical, not mechanical -- churning away in his head as he tries to figure out what the actual fuck is happening here. Nobody else in the place seems to recognize Knives, somehow, but it's really only a matter of time before that changes, right? "And I don't know what the fuck a cyborg is." They're going to recognize him, and then things are going to get very bad.

He has to get Knives out of here. He has to get him out of town as far away from all these people, from Miz Melanie and the kids, everyone, before he murders them all. His face twitches in something resembling a smile. "You wanna take a walk?"