"Its you," Nick muttered, though it wasn't clear whether he meant the stranger he'd fought on the helicarrier or the man he'd grudgingly come to suspect this might be. He approached with his hands still raised and echoed the man's reassuring tone, his eyes on his daughter, "'Course not, baby." This motherfucker was playing games, but Nick wasn't a piece on a board. He wouldn't buy into it. Wouldn't admit to a fucking thing, play this twisted game, unless his kid was safe. When he spoke again, eyes flickering to Callista's captor, there was a note of something in his voice, maybe fear. Definitely rage. "You don't have to do this, we can figure this out ourselves, just let her go."