Chriselle spoke in mumbled apologies, despite them being unneeded. He reached forward and grabbed onto her right hand, moving his own fingers against the mark on her skin, barely tracing it. This was easier than telling her that he didn't mind what she had done, instead he wanted to show her that he was okay with it, even if might force her to reel away from him. Rhythmical knocking broke the scene, and Rory dropped her hand, eyes narrowed towards the door and feet hitting the ground with hostility. Flames licked at his outsoles, threatening to eat away at this building as well. They disappeared as soon as they came, leaving only burns on the floor.
He reached towards the door, heart pounding with rage and violence, prepared to waste away the present nuisance. Someone had seen them, had the audacity to follow them, comfort them. To Rory, it was clear that the owner of the voice had a death wish. If he was feeling so suicidal, then he would bless him with a homicide. "I'm not only willing but able to help you." He froze, arm outstretched, and flames disappearing. Blood that had rushed in his ears had drained away, unable to control his body anymore, paralyzed.
"I advise you to hear this man out." The voice of death and persistence spoke to him, preventing him from dropping another body so soon today. "He may be able to actually help us. Behave." Rory stumbled forward, using the door to prevent himself from falling down, knees shaking briefly before he regained his composure. He glared at the floor, the malice directed at the voice in his head. He didn't like this, but if he disobeyed, then Neberius would only take over, and he didn't want the demon to do so right now. Not when he still had some time to himself left, and he opened the door.
With narrowed eyes, Rory looked at the man, recognizing him from the street. "Then say something of use. How could you help us?" He demanded, stepping away from the door entrance, allowing some space for the man to enter the desolate apartment. He glanced over to Chriselle, and then returned his attention to the man. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now." Voice low, whispering and callous, his gaze was unrelenting. This man must be playing some sort of game, stuffing cards up his sleeves, none out of good intention. He didn't trust him at all.