"That's a fair request," and one he'll honor, words shaky as the breath he takes in through his teeth. He moves away from the wall he was holding himself so close to moments before (half because he said he would, half because he didn't want to be close to something peeling away to all manner of unsanitary things), backing into Rosalind's view.

This also meant that Rosalind and the "man" beside her was also in his view, and he honestly was convinced that she must be crazy to think that thing was safer to be around than himself.

His grip tightens further on the little makeshift weapon in his hand, moving up to a defensive position in front of his chest. The terror is plain on his face, Rosalind, and his eyes aren't on you.