"Doesn't really matter now, does it? They don't come back like I do."

And it isn't something he entirely wants to dredge up either. But something is owed, an explanation at best. He can see it in her eyes - that needle-point precision that's entirely like a child to have. Adults usually know better, kids like the pry. The who(s), what(s), where(s), when(s); it's a nagging trait.

Greed raps his nail against the floorboards.

"The military," he starts, not without the usual smarmy expression. "-eventually they found out I was here. Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, but they had something I wasn't expecting."

Wrath. For a second, his shoulders stiffen and his lips pull back. "Wasn't exactly prepared for it."