Ryah made no move towards the business card. In fact, he would just as soon have let it rot where it was or set it on fire, except that would apparently activate it. Somehow, he didn't take Kane as a warm, fuzzy, helpful Hufflepuff, and Ryah didn't think any offer of his could be trusted. The demon seemed like the type to play mind games, the type to enjoy making others miserable, and Ryah didn't want to give him the satisfaction.<br/><br/>It took nearly half a minute after the demon had left before Ryah let go of Drake's wrist, not sure where his mind was, at that moment. He finally glanced up at the vampire, giving a minute shrug. "As all right as I can be, considering I was just told shit's about to hit the fan," he answered after a moment. "It's fine, really. What you and Kane had, it's none of my business. Your past is your past. You don't need to explain anything." He wasn't jealous, he told himself. That would have been ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.<br/><br/>Ryah didn't want to think about it too hard; if he did, he had a feeling he'd start to panic and he'd never stop. One thing at a time, he told himself, taking a careful breath and then another and another, counting each one carefully until his heart stopped racing. When he finally felt like he wasn't going to drown underneath everything, he went to shut his front door, bolting it (though really, like that had been any help against a damn demon) and then taking a seat on the couch. He wasn't sure how much blood Drake needed but he didn't want to pass out case he got lightheaded. Ryah held his wrist out, eyes flickering up to meet Drake's for an instant. "Whatever you need," he said, his voice soft and careful.