"Maybe, maybe not," He replied to her question as he stared intently at a throwing knife that had a large crack in its blade, "I can't say for sure as we can never say that we'll survive anything. It all comes down to luck and circumstances."<br/><br/>He'd have to replace the throwing knife he was examining. The crack in it was too bad to use without breaking. Enough force st the right angle and it would snap clean in two. Not something you want to happen when you are in a fight. It could get you killed if it leaves you without a weapon to defend yourself with.<br/><br/>"Don't worry about me, I'll be ready when it's time to go," He said, glancing at her with a smile, "I tend to be a light sleeper anyway. Good night, Aristophillia."<br/><br/>Leaving the damaged knife out, he meticulously put each knife and tool that wasn't back where he had it. It appeared to be a practiced art. Nothing was unaccounted for as he placed each item where it belonged. He was humming a desert hymn doing so.help him to relax as he calmed his mind.<br/><br/>Once done with that, he removed his harness and set it on the chair over his coat and laid down himself. He fell into a light doze after a bit. One think about him was his body was it had a sixth sense for danger. He could be up and gone before anyone knew he was there if his sixth sense told him something was off. It served him well as an assassin.