"Life is chaotic," he observed dryly, with a slight smirk to his lips. "It's us who try to make order out of it. We're infamous for it." Not that he disagreed in theory; he liked reasons for things, liked to believe people had rationale behind their actions and that somewhere there was actually a point. But he'd yet to see it himself; he'd seen far too many people stab each other in the back for no real reason to think it was really there. It was how he made his living, after all; he didn't even bother to question why the people he was told to kill needed to be dead anymore. It was just the natural order of things, he supposed; the universe tended towards entropy because it was easiest. Second law of thermodynamics; you can't argue with science. It was why he tried to make order where he could; it made him feel a little better about the chaos around him.
The hitman had frowned at the mention of Fawkes, and now he opted for a reply; he'd yet to meet the man face to face, and he honestly doubted he would, but he had heard enough through his various sources to be concerned. He glanced up at her, and while his expression was no more or less obviously neutral than it had been up to this point, there was a tenseness that hadn't been there before that, were it anyone else, might have been categorized as worry. A tiny chink in the armor, one that could easily be missed by those less familiar with his tells. "Be careful out there, alright? He may technically be on your side, but a mask isn't a bad way to hide."