Alina blinked. The kid had decided to throw his cleaver and then without a word, he'd moved into the staff lounge. Shaking her head slowly, Alina followed him, pausing for just a moment to retrieve his meat cleaver. Entering the staff lounge, she set the cleaver gently on the floor, preventing any further loud noises the weapon might make.
"I can hardly blame you for your behavior," she said quietly. "Collectors and all..." She frowned, observing the lived-in quality of the lounge. "I take it I'm intruding on your bedroom space..." Taking a step back toward the door, she sighed.
"It's clear you don't trust anyone," she told him. "And given the events of the last eighteen months, nobody would blame you. But you need help. I'm not asking you to go anywhere for it. I'm asking you to trust me... here. Think about it. Anyone who wanted you rounded up or dead would have killed you after your meat cleaver stunt. I haven't done that, now have I?"
One final time, she urged, "Let me help." Then, she stood in the doorway, waiting for his answer.