To be fair, Irisi didn't make a habit of knifing people in her apartment. The last time she had knifed an actual human, and not a demon or ghoul or undead nazi...she really needed more normal hobbies...or anything else like that, she and Ásmundr had gone to the trouble of driving out into the middle of nowhere. And that had been a renegade mage who had tried to turn her into a mannequin...after propositioning her in a truly disgusting manner...not an awkward stranger with burned hands.
"It's no problem," she assured him, "just what I do." Other than her prophetic abilities, her healing ones were the only ones that weren't mainly used to cause damage. She felt like healing atoned for the times she did have to kill humans. She gestured to his tea and took a sip of her own.
"I'm Irisi, by the way," she said, holding out her free hand. She wouldn't give her full name. Such things had power.