Angel turned back to him. The change in his scent, the stop of his footsteps, nervously watching over her shoulder.

"Jacob Frye. He's from London. The Brotherhood there? I don't know, really, you guys... well, it's your business, not mine. You've told me some stuff? But I don't come from Earth, so I don't even really know what... well, London is."

She clears her throat. He's never looked at her like that. In frank suspicion, and it turned her small, turned her unhappy, and she has been on the receiving end of it too many times for it not to hurt. Not from anyone, but from Connor.

"You just get me to help with... stuff like this." Her hand gestures at the room. "I know this kind of stuff. I built the gun you're carrying. I fixed Jacob's hidden blade." She gestures with her chin at his hip.