Something told the baby kindred that he was being dismissed, and probably not in a way that was healthy for his future. There was nothing overtly telling him he was about to be tossed into the sun or given final death but the air seemed dangerous for him. Especially when Lucian called for someone named Lazarus. There were a few key people that had been taught to him but that name had been the first. The Sheriff, the man who did the dirty work for the Prince, so to speak. That didn't put him at ease at all. Panic started to crawl up his throat in a way he couldn't quite ever remember - not even when things got bad with his brothers.
Even as the Prince spoke again, he knew he had to speak up, even with his throat feeling like a hand was clamped tight around it. He had to do, or say something, that would impress even a little bit. A reason to be kept around, or taken slightly serious. He'd grown up being called a mouse, book smart not situation smart. He had to channel Henry, channel his businessman father, his sporty brothers.
Straightening and doing his best to actually look at the older man, Rhys spoke up with only a little bit of hesitation. "With all due respect, s-sir, my sire has been gone for a fourth of the time I've been a kindred. Before I was em-embraced, he was there almost every night, even after. Him being gone isn't normal.." His fingers were twisting into knuckle cracking knots behind his back, but he was doing his absolute best to not show it. "In the time he's been gone, I've read through at least half his library." Of course, a lot of it wasn't in English but that wasn't really relevant here.
Even with all his effort, however, under that gaze, he was starting to lose his posture, his eyes starting to sink. "I want to learn whatever I can get my hands on and be useful. I have a p-photographic memory." The last was much quieter but still able to be heard.