"Great lengths," Chase repeated. "But not to murder? Not even for her?" He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." Not that he really had any intentions of doing anything to incite murderous urges in Ichabod (sure, he wasn't the same level of threat as Spike, but he wasn't ready to add another guy to his 'to avoid' list), but he did like to know his options.
Chase cupped his chin as he thought. "No, I think if it comes right down to it, under the right set of circumstances, everyone here would kill. Even the dog." Granted, the 'right set' would be different for everyone, and Chase doubted most of them would ever be faced with it, but it was interesting to think about, all the same.
"Chase Collins," he replied to the inquiry about his name. "I'm sure you've heard of me," he added with a grin. In a negative connotation, no doubt, but Chase had screwed with enough people that word had probably wandered.
"Alone by choice," he lied. Just like he'd lied to Caleb not so long ago. He didn't want to be alone, and deep down in the place he denied he had, he didn't want to be an asshole, either. But he'd grown up this way, and the armor was firmly in place. He'd been excluded -- the fact that it was by accident and not design didn't matter to him -- and he'd grown up alone. He'd live alone, and someday -- sooner than most -- he'd die alone.