The way she reacted to him spoke volumes.<br/><br/>She was afraid.  Looking at the situation in a superficial way, it made sense.  She was a petite young woman, and he was a man who happened to be a little taller than average.  Even without making any sudden movements or threatening gestures, he still had the potential to be a monster.  She saw that, but she didn't see his weaknesses, and she didn't seem to know her own strength.<br/><br/>Her voice trembled.  She barely moved away from the wall and Asher raised his hand, silently imploring her not to take a single step closer.  He was as cautious as she was, even if he didn't wear it on his sleeve.  If she knew what she was, if she could see beneath the skin as he could, then she would know that she held the upper hand.<br/><br/>What he knew about her was the bare minimum.  Her name was Charlotte.  She wasn't entirely human.  And if she hadn't been born into this world, then Nathaniel wouldn't have tortured him to better understand a granddaughter he never had the opportunity to see again.  All that he'd endured in this house hinged around her and amounted to nothing.  That realization settled on him gradually.  He didn't know what to think about it, about her, so he stared too long in perfect silence.<br/><br/>"Sinclair," he finally replied, answering her immediate question without explaining his reason for being there, in a seemingly abandoned property.  "When you're ready to leave, I could use a ride to the nearest city.  I'll answer any questions you might have about him.  Show you around the house, if you'd like.  I've been here twenty years, give or take, and I know more than I'd like about your grandfather's work."<br/><br/>He paused, and then reached for the banister.  He leaned on it a bit heavily as he stood, but that was the only overt sign that he felt unwell.  The warmth of the furnace running certainly helped, though it wasn't yet enough to drive the chill from his bones.