Kalab watched Nehmahatiâ€™s reactions and smiled tightly and briefly. Those very few that knew him well would see genuine mirth at the womanâ€™s surprise and more at her confusion.<span style="font-weight: bold">â€œWho are you? Why the hell are you at my window?â€</span>Was now really the time to be asking so many questions?<br/><br/>â€œLet me in Nehmahati,â€ he repeated to her, in spite of the fact that he could have easily broken the window or even unlocked and opened it without any destruction at all. â€œDonâ€™t you know me? Not my name.<span style="font-style: italic">Me</span>.â€ Having to take even this time to convince her couldnâ€™t be safe. Kalab showed no sign of the annoyance he had to be feeling over the situation.<br/><br/>He tapped the window once again, clearly a gesture toward the lock, and left his hand pressed against the glass. â€œDear heart, you<span style="font-style: italic">know </span>that you do. We need to speak.â€ And right now, he wanted to add. But she was carrying a blade and appeared awfully tense. Though he did hope her hurry would make her a bit less wary of a stranger. Especially one she knew, even if she did not know how or why.