"It's, ah, a pleasure." Shay managed awkwardly, feeling utterly out of place in a fancy flat with a bullet wound and some rather exotic-garbed woman that looked like he imagined a Gypsy looking like uttering nonsense in a strange tongue that Silas somehow spoke, and claimed to be related to this woman. The news the wound wasn't serious was a welcome one, but still, this highly unconventional woman plucking away to expose the wound had him tense up somewhat, uncertainty creeping down his spine.

Sam fidgeted with a pack of smokes, fumbling with the lid before suddenly deciding against it, setting the carton down on the kitchen counter with more force than he strictly meant to. He was visibly shaken. "I get that. What, I'm not supposed to worry about my own sister and friend nearly getting killed?" Sam snapped tersely, before immediately looking regretful. "This is just, too much too soon. I picked here because it was a quiet, safe neighbourhood, and you have yet another run-in with the Adders... What do I need to do to keep you safe from them? How do I keep you from ending up in the fucking morgue? You said you provoked goddamn Donald Hayes, do you understand how dangerous that man is, what he does to people?" Sam demanded, his voice raising, the strain evident. 

Breathing deeply, his eyes pools of fear and grief, he whispered, "We only have each other, Vera. You're all I have left. I don't want you to leave me."