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Once they're in the elevator down and alone, she looks up at him with those big cool blue eyes, and smiles. "Liar."
"....What about?" A raised eyebrow.
"Yourself. I'd been wondering. I think I have it now." She leans back against the wall of the elevator.
There's a beat, and then Cian lets out another sigh. "Do tell..."
Her head tilts to one side. "You're younger than you want to seem. I can't pin an exact date, but. I doubt you saw any of the 1800s firsthand. You really do like history. And you really are good at it. Yes?"
Blushed as he is, his breath catches, and he flicks his gaze to the elevator doors like he's suddenly very uncomfortable. "Quite an interesting theory, that. You're certainly correct about my love of history."
"Heh." She's caught that reaction, and she lets him know that, but glances to the elevator doors as well.
"What are you...hoping to achieve, from this conversation?" He sounds just short of resigned, now.
"To let you know, it's a little silly for someone who's supposed to be over a hundred to call a book published in 1937 a 'classic'. You need to tighten up if you're going to fool people. Don't offer yourself to be 'of use' to silly little neonates, either. You need to watch yourself, in order to do better. Or others will catch up and catch on, too." A casual shrug. "Why're you doing it?"
"Why not offer? I have knowledge, and experience that 'silly little neonates' might find useful. I've only been in Philadelphia a year, Miss Lamb, perhaps the culture is different in my former home."
"It'd be different in the other direction, I think. More bossy elders. Less kindness to those younger. Cian, I don't know what game you're playing, but you're doing it poorly."
She hugs her textbooks to her chest as the elevator doors open at the lobby level. "I suppose that's all I have to say, unless you want to walk me home safe. After all, the big bad wolf's only hunting us young kids. You ought to be fine to go home alone, right?"
"I...am sure you are too valuable an asset to this city, even young as you are, to walk home alone." He says it stiffly, but it is an offer.
"It's a bit of a long walk. It's best to take the SEPTA part of the way, and then walk the rest. I live out in the woods, you see." She gestures in the appropriate direction, implying distance. "But. I'd like the company. You're pretty okay, Cian."
"'Pretty okay' is...something, I suppose." His laugh is a little hollow, and he gestures to the door. Ladies first. "I have not spent a great amount of time away from center city, I'll admit."
There's a pause, and she looks up at him. "You're waiting for me to try to blackmail you, huh? Leverage what I know somehow, try to get something out of you?"
"You have proven to be someone worth believing, in this city, have you not?"
"Would you expect otherwise, in my place?"
She reaches up to touch his cheek, the most feather-light little touch, and then begins walking toward the bus stop.
He startles, taking half a step backward as he blinks in surprise.
And then follows her to the bus stop, eyeing the denizens of Philly who are also out at this hour.
She doesn't say anything at the bus stop, or on the bus. She doesn't say anything at all, until it's the two of them and the deep dark woods.
"I wonder if you've thought about killing me, as a possible solution to your current problem. A way to keep your secret safe. I think it'd at least have crossed my mind, in your place."
"I have, yes." That, at least, he will admit to.
"If we were in Boston, it's likely I'd have already attempted it. But this is not Boston, and I am no longer who I had to be, there."
"This is not Boston." She nods. "I don't think I'd like Boston, personally. I'd also not really like to die. There's a million things I haven't done yet. I have a lot of learning to do, still."
"I don't think you'd like Boston, either." He gives her a small smile. "I hope, for your sake, you have the time for the learning you hope to do. And I hope you have a good rest of your night, Miss Lamb."
In taking her home, of course his own journey home has become exponentially longer, but he starts to turn away, back toward the distant bus stop.
It's the tiniest little rundown cabin he ends up bringing her to--the paint faded, the roof has holes in it, everything is a bit of a mess. But it's home to her, and she offers him a handshake before he leaves. Whatever that means.
As he did when they first met, he lifts her hand slightly instead, inclining his head without actually going to kiss it.
And then he's gone - or rather, so completely unremarkable that there's no reason for her to watch him. Or even remember where he is.
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