Erik looked at him studyingly. â€œThere are worse things to burn you than the firey lapping touch of a flickering flame.â€ He said simply. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them again. Nodding his head. He liked it when the place was empty. He listened as the man spoke. Blinking as if surprised by the words that were just uttered from the manâ€™s lips. â€œSo you read past the words and saw the meaning. Impressive.â€ He said simpy. Looking up at the ceiling. â€œWords...are the greatest weapon you can have...when everything else has formed no meaning. They can keep you alive just as much as they can destroy you.â€ He didnâ€™t look back down.<br/><br/>â€œThere is many more of those poems...dancing around in my head.â€ He closed his eyes. â€œI have seen the faces of those who listen...nobody really gets it...until you. Nobody sees it for what it is. An expression of what I have been through. Those who listen...hear poetry that is moving. Yet the meaning and reason behind such poetry...is nonexistant in their mind.â€ His tone never changing. Stayed lifeless. â€œThose poems I write in my head...they are my sanity. They are my way of expressing...everything I have been through.â€<br/><br/>He shrugged a bit. â€œFear...I know that emotion. Not towards much anymore...yet I know it. Before I went numb.â€ he said simply. He looked back at the man as he held out his hand. For a moment he made no indication of truly noting that the man extended his hand. His eyes showed nothing of the fact his mind was weighing the options. Strong aura meant greater difficulty blocking things from being picked up by his psionics. It was a gift...and...a curse. After a long moment he leaned up a bit. Slowly moving his hand out. He was not being on shaking hands. â€œErik.â€ He said simply. Taking ahold of the manâ€™s hand. His hands were soft yet his grip was neither firm nor gentle. It would give off the impression of a man withdrawn from the world yet still living amongst it.<br/><br/>â€œI see. I come here...because I can express my thoughts...through my poetry.â€ He said simply. Letting go of the manâ€™s hand after shaking it for a moment or two. â€œI live around...stay here until it gets later on...then I leave. Go other places. Come back at night.â€ He studied the man.