Lamia's response had thrown him off, if only because he didn't understand the truthfulnes in it, or her discomfort in that truth. He paused, his brows furrowed, before he repeated the word - "Assets?" It was a foreign word to him, and he wondered what it might mean in both definition and context. Assumably, it wasn't a naturally positive word based on her tone. Lamia was an asset, an asset to be kept close to her mother, but what was an asset at all? He shook his head, frustrated at himself for having not been exposed to more language, to more wolves, to more in general. All he knew was Asteraia and its outskirts, and he quietly detested his sheltered upbringing. In a sense, he was more like Lamia than he knew.
He had hoped to press for more information but they were suddenly interupted by the arrival of another. Kaliban moved to pivot but paused when he came to know the scent better, and instead, he merely stiffened. He recognised it well enough, though he knew nothing of the Other it belonged to. It was, strangely so, the scent he had been hoping to find the source of since he had first discovered it. Kaliban was, and obviously so, surprised to find its owner having approached them so brazenly, even if he did stink of Menkhet. Just so, his eyes narrowed on Nyteshade, and he gave a bump of resistence in response to the boy's own, unwilling to sacrifice any of his space. Despite his relative placidity, Kaliban still had the stubborn blood of both Sekhmet and Kweku in his veins. Even if he lacked their fire, it did not make him meek. He snorted, and then gave Lamia a look of inquiry as Nyteshade spoke.
Cousins, he understood, yet he looked over Nyteshade skeptically. There was no doubt in Kaliban's mind that their relationship was not derived from blood. Cousin of Lamia, but not a cousin of his or Menkhet. It only made him more suspicious, even if Lamia spoke to him so freely and warmly.
"Only Lamia is not the sister who brought you here," he said after Lamia's introductions, having straightened his posture to better display his budding size and brawn. Nyteshade, after all, insisted on staying close to both of them, unphased by their personal space or boundaries. How he had survived Menkhet with such an attitude, Kaliban could not know.
Still, he tried to remain passive, and to hold back his curiosity. He relaxed, or at least tried to. Shouldn't he have been happy? He'd spent some time looking for the male and he'd found him, only he had found Lamia first and so, his attention had been focused wholly on her. He'd practically disregarded the questions he had for Nyteshade, so his arrival - alongside the revelation of being connected to more than just Menkhet - had lowered his guard. Kaliban, simply put, didn't know how to respond, and he didn't like that at all.
"You're not my kin, nor are you pack-wolf. So, Nyteshade, why are you here?" He might have been blood to Lamia, but he was not blood to Kaliban. He was owed nothing, and so Kaliban gave him little of whatever formality or manners he knew. Instead, Kaliban watched him closely, suspiciously, and tried to learn all he could as fast as he could. It wasn't much, of course, beyond the fact that Nyteshade was strange in a different way. He was not like Menkhet, Sekhmet or even Mihos, or any other of his blood. He was not even like Lamia, a girl Kaliban had immediately pinned as being sharp and direct.
He huffed, unashamed to let them know that his inner dialogue was one of uncertainty. That - shame - was not something he or his siblings had been taught. "And Lamia," he said, his attention having turned to her with a much more cordial expression, "you didn't come looking for him, but you were looking for somebody. Or was it something?" He supposed that was one way to ask without being too direct, though he had a feeling she would be straight to the point.