The ground was a comfortable place to sit, the carpet was much softer than many of the places Everos had found himself. In fact, this was the nicest place he'd been in a few years, company considered-- he'd only been shot once, his wounds were being tended to, he wasn't cold or wet, and it was almost blissfully quiet. There wasn't much more he could ask for, truthfully.<br/><br/>Everos nonchalantly took the vial from the Thief and downed it, sitting still as he observed his surroundings. Damion Grey and the woman spoke, and not long after the vigilante boy returned.<br/><br/>The situation was still confusing, he was playing a game with only a handful of variables, but most had presented themselves. And the things he did not know were growing more and more negligible as events moved forward, though they were still worthy of consideration.<br/><br/>The assassin's greatest advantage was still one of knowledge, or a lack thereof. Damion Grey did not quite understand the events that had transpired, that was apparent. Everos was not here tonight seeking justice, he was being employed by an entrepreneur that priced human lives for business; Damion Grey's happened to be worth two million in clean cash. Furthermore, it would seem this cult gathered around the man believed themselves to be werewolves. The disgusting form the woman had taken earlier was likely the result of some experiment-- it was likely involuntary, a form taken in response to strong emotion. It was unlikely to have anything to do with the moon, just as the "silver" he just took was very unlikely to be silver, it was probably some other poison. Everos suspected the man employing his own employer wanted Damion Grey dead so he could take the woman, likely an escaped history fair project of some rich Neo-Nazi.<br/><br/>When the Thief finished removing the bullet from his arm, he thanked him, and returned to sit in a more comfortable position. With all the commotion about and a rather hobbled man sitting next to him, it was likely he could dive back through the window and be gone again-- they hadn't set any guards, he wasn't wounded very badly, and the window was still wide open. Not to mention, he was quite sure he could take the revolver from the Thief. The bullets contained some kind of poison, and he didn't doubt they would much more effective than the silencer he dropped on the floor a few feet back.<br/><br/>But, he was curious. How had Damion Grey known to wear a bullet proof vest if he hadn't known the attack was coming? Also, why was the woman so attached to the man? And even more curious, why was an obviously wealthy thief running around with these hooligans? This house was probably a joke compared to whatever the man had set up in his little game shop.<br/><br/>So many questions and so few answers.<br/><br/>When he was truly free of the Thief, he stood and turned towards the window. Before anyone could react, he shut it and moved to sit down on the couch. After all, the couch was more comfortable than the ground, even if the carpet was pretty great. He crossed his legs loosely, so that his right ankle rested on his left knee, making them perpendicular, and folded his arms. He leaned back on the couch, watching and listening.