"I won't lose your daughter." he assured, confidently. "And I certainly won't be heading near any police officers."<br/><br/>Manson flashed another of one was appearing to be his trademark, charming smile, and shrugged his shoulders. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like Keena to show me around. I'd like to get to know her as well as I can, as quickly as I can." he proposed, "My men will find their own way around."<br/><br/>With a nod, his men immediately and silently dispersed, slipping from the room with all the ruckus of a butterfly, to which Manson smiled slyly; he was particularly proud of his well-trained entourage, much like the owner of a well-trained hunting dog. Perhaps that was a cruel comparison - his men were human beings, after all, not animals - but it was as close to the truth as he could imagine.<br/><br/>The room's atmosphere shifted a little as the meeting seemed to draw to a close. Though there was a decisive air of expectancy, the earlier feeling of tension, confusion, had dissipated, replaced instead by a pong of curiosity from all corners. Manson himself was incredibly curious about the entire situation - particularly Keena. How could one girl prove so difficult? Was she really so ridiculously good at running away, or was it a fault of her father's men? Perhaps, they were too afraid to put their foot down with her. Manson would not be so afraid, he decided. Nor would he fall for her fluttering her lashes.<br/><br/>With a silent sigh, Manson turned to Keena, nodding towards the door. "I don't bite, I promise." he joked, offering her his arm. He had plenty of questions for this young woman, though many of them he did not need to ask aloud; many of them, she would answer simply through her body language, the tone of her voice, her hesitations.