He bristled a little. He hadn't asked him to bother, had he? But he still listened. How sad--so desperate for guidance that he was willing to take advice from the man he'd tried to kill not two weeks before.
Still, it was something. Make Boyd happy--that was something he could process, because that was what he wanted for her. He watched Daniel get up and then got up himself, cutting him off and taking his coffee mug from him, filling it for him before handing it back to him. He couldn't handle seeing him stagger through the kitchen again.
He was starting to realize, with a distinct uneasiness, that Daniel knew Boyd a lot better than he did. That, at least, was something that needed to change, and something he could move to fix. "That makes sense," he admitted, and it wasn't the noncommittal response his last one had been. "She likes talking about things." He did know that, at least. "She wants to know what I'm thinking, all the time. Maybe that would help." He was more musing aloud than anything else, looking toward the entrance to the kitchen. He couldn't quite see her from where he was, but knowing that she was there and that she was safe, at least for now, calmed him. Vlad wouldn't be stupid enough to kill Boyd, he reasoned. He had to know that more than one person would be coming after him if that were to happen, and he wasn't a foolish man.
He brought his thoughts back to the conversation, and he cleared his throat. This question was not going to come easy--but it had to be asked. "Why is she so willing to...confide in you?" Confide. Not sleep with. Because that was something he didn't want to think about, much less discuss.