"Ay," Matthew said, in his peculiar mix of very old English and lilting Irish. No one could mistake his voice anywhere, and it was a wonder he even bothered with a mask in the night. "To know thy mind. You concernest our lady greatly with thine evasive manner." Knowing that not a soul was in the building. he didn't trouble to keep his voice down, and he moved around the soldier in a broad circle.
Anyone from New York would know the salty/sour/moisture smell of the Hudson, even one as new to it as Matthew. He frowned slightly, blind gaze directed gently upward as he examined the surroundings. Then he extended outward, to what the gun was pointed at. His tone became strange as he deliberately made his accent more modern. "Who are you shooting at?"
With deliberate innocence, Matthew drifted farther into the room, close to where the path of the window would reveal his shadow to anyone glancing upward.