"My reasons for being here are," he paused, mulling over the long list of possible answers available to him. There was always the truth, it was the easiest to pull out, but he wasn't about to go and admit anything to this deranged stranger. So perhaps a lie? But there wasn't a lie he could think of that served the purpose of both excusing his actions as perfectly reasonable and kept him from any point of mockery. Wrinkling his nose, he went with the simple but ever effective: "They're my own reasons. I don't have to explain myself to you."
Bullet proof reasoning.
Lysander had opened his mouth to speak again, to poo-poo the other and urge him to go on his way, but the words spoken, Start Running, had managed to instill some sort of fear in him. Deep down in the organic makeup of his humanity (which he did have, despite his own protests), he was able to recognize the underlying tone in Jack's voice. Eyes went wide and, through his fear and rage (for being afraid), his body had begun to glow brightly. Snubbing out his cigarette against the stump he sat on and tossing it aside, Lysander slow rose to his feet and turned to face Jack head on.
"I will not run from the likes of you." Never mind that his heart was racing a million miles per hour. "I won't be bullied or bossed about by a child."