This boy was beginning to irritate Sylvia even more. They had entirely different morals and mindsets regarding everything they'd talked about thus far. But right now, 'Evelyn' needed an ally in this place.

"Respects are meant to be paid to the living, the dead can't hear you." Sylvia sighed, disappointed with herself. "But it matters little." She returned to her casual position, leaning on the beam. "Why are we arguing, [i] you[/i] of all people should understand the importance of having an ally during a crisis." Sylvia removed a glove, tending to an itch and revealing a wisp of red and orange ink that spun in spiral patterns on her hand up to her sleeve.

"Anyway, seeing as family is a touchy issue, let's talk about what you used to do. What were you, a metalworker?"

Sylvia's hand was really bothering her now, she scratched almost as intently as she listened.