He remembered vividly how his father spoke to him and his siblings, before his father killed everyone else. He had such an insidious way about his words. Whatever he said became an automatic poision in the minds of whoever it dealt with. He felt like the dirt they walked on when he was younger, and momma had always made it to where his fathers words wouldn't effect them.

But then he killed everyone, left Robichaux for dead and was 'poof' gone. He never thought of it more, but the idea always lurked in the back of his mind that his sickness had killed him, or someone else got to him eventually. He shook the thoughts away as he looked at the girl before him. She seemed so lost, he couldn't help but want to help her. It was something ingrained in him. He'd felt this need to make things better. Whether it meant anything or not. He wanted to try.

She looked so confused. When she spoke of having no name, he merely nodded, not wanting to push the matter anymore than he had already. He watched her. Listening as she began to ramble. His attention perked up, paying close attention to the words that fell from her lips. When she finished, he let his nose reach out, pausing before getting to close. "Tell me how I can help." He spoke softly, his soft gaze tracing the lines of her face as he waited for her to speak again. He wanted to help her, and whatever she needed, he'd do.

"Anything you need, just tell me." He meant it too, for whatever reason, he'd help her. That much he knew.