Lyon's cool demeanor shattered in an instant. He stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened and the expression on his face would've been impossible to discern for even the most capable profiler.
Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. The boy knew how he was dressed. He'd more than likely seen his face. He saw his sword. He knew what he looked like. He knew where he came from. He knew... everything. It was a horrible situation.
For the first time, Lyon had a witness...
He fumbled at trying to figure out how to respond. What could he say? He couldn't dismiss the stories as fake. The boy clearly did his research. Was he a cop? No, he looked too young for that. But then again, prodigies weren't unlikely.
He tried to calm himself down and chose his next words carefully:
"...You don't say? What a coincidence. That very story is why I've chosen to carry this weapon for protection. It would be terrible to run into such a dangerous man at night... especially at a time like this, when nobody is around for aid," he said as calmly as he could.