Aleyda caught the slight cringe of annoyance but gathered that it wasn't her that he was cringing at, but himself. He had failed his mission to kill her. She smiled, "Don't beat yourself up over it, darling. You're far from the first person to come after me and I imagine you won't be the last. The difference between you and those before you is that you were smart enough to take me up on my offer, and you're still alive." she spoke with a sweet almost chipper tone that was ill-fitted to the more somber feel that one might expect when discussing such matters. She, however, wasn't much for somber, dark, or dreary things. She found them far too depressing, and she had enough in her past that was oppressively depressing without adding more to it.<br/><br/>She took another sip of her drink as she observed him. It was unlikely that she would get drunk, or anywhere close to it, for that matter. She had always had a high tolerance for alcohol and it had only built up more and more over the years. At any rate, she wouldn't drink enough to risk such a thing. She preferred to be in control of her faculties at all times, particularly when she was in the presence of someone who had come to kill her. Just because she had offered him a drink and he had accepted didn't mean she trusted him. She wasn't so foolish, and her past had taught her not to trust anyone, certainly not someone you've just met, who happened to sneak into your house to attempt to take your life.<br/><br/>It was hardly noticeable, and wouldn't have been noticeable at all to the untrained eye, when his heart quickened and the nervous feeling washed over him. The shiver that went through his body, the tiniest of increase in the tenseness of his muscles, the narrowing of his eyes. He was uneasy, that much was clear. One might expect that someone on an assassination mission would be uneasy to begin with, but that wasn't the case. He hadn't been nervous before. He was on guard, alert, ready to respond to anything, but he wasn't nervous or uneasy. No, that was new. Her own fault, she suspected, but why?<br/><br/>She sipped her drink and listened as he explained who exactly had sent him. She knew who he was referring to. The woman was several years older than Aleyda and had married at a young age, just before the attack on their family. The girl had eloped, so no one knew who she married, and no one really heard from her again after that. She had imagined that the girl had been hunted like the rest of them. Perhaps she was the orchestrator of their demise, rather than a victim. "Is that so? Well, then, perhaps I might get some answers after all." she replied thoughtfully, smiling and taking another drink.<br/><br/>When he finished his drink she grabbed the bottle and poured him another glass before replacing it on the counter. She could see something playing inside of him, but what it was exactly was not easy to tell. He was attracted to her, that much she could tell, but why she had such a profound effect on him, she didn't know. She wondered what it was that had happened in his past that such things caused such unease in him. It wasn't easy to read him by any means, but everyone had tells, no matter how difficult they might be to find. He must have been betrayed, she imagined, by someone he loved. It was a tale as old as time, and one that she had experienced herself, which was why it wasn't terribly difficult to decipher.<br/><br/>She chuckled a little at the question and took another sip of her drink as she observed him thoughtfully. "Not very subtle, are we?" she replied, a somewhat coy smile playing across her lips. The way he drank, the tension in his shoulders, the on-guard pose with which he held himself, as well as the displays she had seem earlier, they were all tells. He was off balance, nervous, and it was because of her. It was curious, but perhaps not terribly so. She was, after all, a rather attractive young woman, and he was a man who was very much alive. "You think I'm that easy?" she questioned with a light, almost playful tone, rather than one of accusation or offense. "I suppose it's not entirely out of the question. I might need a few more drinks before then." she mused before finishing off her glass and pouring another. "After all, you did come here to kill me. I'd have to be insane, or at least a little drunk, to go jumping into bed with you after that, now wouldn't I?" she chuckled to herself. "Not that I think you plan to stick a knife in me afterwards or anything, but a girl can never be too careful."