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"Pardon my curiosity," Bassett said as he inspected the books from a distance. He didn't read much, nor did he read often. Reading was a luxury for the soldier and he admired the old texts with wonder. He wondered how they smelled. Books always smelled great. "But...What do you need them for?"

Leaning back up, Bassett shook his bangs from his eyes and watched Edward expectantly from underneath the scar upon his brow. He had gained that scar from a book actually, the shrapnel of a hardcover novel splintered across his face, ripping into his forehead, when it took a bullet that would've taken off Bassett's left hand had it not been there.

"Pey, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," the demon snapped defensively picking at his teeth some more. "What are YOU doing?"

Bassett ignored him and sighed, turning his attention back to Edward with a polite smile.

Huh. That was strange...More demons treading the earth's soil...More than ever before recorded? Bassett furrowed his brows, somewhat perplexed by this news, if not as disturbed as Edward was. That is very strange, now, very strange...

What could it mean?

Pulling his face of concern into a meek smile, "Perhaps it's just...Perhaps...Things are changing? I hope it means nothing more than a change in the statistics. What do you think it can mean?"

Overhearing Edward's comment, Pey turned a teethy frown upon the man and bristled angrily, his hair falling over his shoulders like trickling blood. "He makes it quite clear why the bookish types walk around with staplers in their asses," he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away.

Bassett, shocked at his demon's retort, gestured pleadingly at Edward, "Oh, jeez, sorry about that Edward! He has a temper...Um, the contract is going along...Uh...Well?" But his eyes belied the truth. The contract wasn't going well. In fact, poor Bassett was being manipulated by the hungry demon, and the soldier couldn't do much else but comply.

Bassett nodded his head enthusiastically, trying to convince the other man that all was well, when in fact...It really wasn't. At Galvin's mansion, Pey was constantly distracting the soldier from his chores and from his duties around the household. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. So while Bassett tried to weed the garden or clean the gutters, Pey was nearby loudly complaining or urging Bassett to do something violent. It was kind pf pesky and annoying, but Bassett was getting used to it. Now, Pey had the decency to somehow in someway warn Bassett before he tackled him for blood, like a howl, a gleeful laugh, or a simple, "I'm hungry" when before Pey would sneak out of places and just launch himself onto the soldier. So, considerably, things were better.

But Bassett wasn't about to tell that to Edward. He didn't want to be a burden to the same man who was doing all these kind things for him, so Bassett smiled and explained everything in a simple all encompassing sentence, "Yes, he's learning some manners now, which is hard to believe I know, and I'm able to get a lot of work done around my Master's house without too much bother."

At this point, Bassett shyly slipped his bandaged wrists and arms behind his back in an innocent stretch and an innocuous smile. "Um, the Veil?"

Pey scoffed at his summoner, knowing full well that the soldier was speaking in half truths and white lies. What a cowardly thing to do, the Nameless thought, and he reminisced over the times that Bassett used to cave people's faces in with his own kneecap...

Bassett, seeing the man search his face, tried to give his best inconspicuous innocent smile, which, for the soldier, was a little hard to do considering that he hadn't had the need for that ploy since the war times. When he was in the war lines he had to often make and force different faces to please those above him on the commanding chain, or even in order to make other soldiers laugh or even to scare off his opponents. His face was a tool used often in the war field, but since then, Bassett had hardly put it to its previous use, which meant that his faking of expressions was somewhat on the rusty side.

Then Edward dismissed his question with he simple checking of his fingernails. While Bassett was out of practice when it came to making expressions, that didn't mean that he was any out of shape when it came to reading them. The soldier clearly got the hint that it was a piece of information that the other didn't want to share. So Bassett didn't pry further.

"Oh okay," Bassett nodded his head thankfully and the soldier gave a meek smile, juggling the books he had for his master in his arms, "Thank you very kindly, Sir. I'll come by and drop them off when I'm done with them. Thank you again, sir."

You really are just nineteen, aren't you, Mr. Ellery?

Bassett stared at the man as he disappeared down the cold concrete sidewalk, his eyes wide and his arms tightly hugging his master's books. Those last words resonated within him, rebounding in off and around the bone walls of his lung's cage. Thoughts also reverberated in his head, things like: whatever could Edward mean about saying that? But before he could say anything, speak, give him a statement of some sort, he had already walked far away, leaving him there on the sidewalk, a youth of nineteen...

...with a demon over his shoulder.

"He's one p***k of a limey, ain't he?" Pey sniffed over his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around his blood smeared chest. He didn't like the look of that man, not one bit at all. Haughty and prideful, all nose, no brain! If they were on the battlefield, he'd be holding the barrel of a gun like a gentlemen holding a snot-soaked napkin. "What the hell did he mean by that anyway?"

Bassett elbowed his demon in the gut and the motion made the soldier flinch underneath a fiery glare. After ducking away from his demon, Bassett began walking towards his master's home, glancing every so often over his shoulder.

"Well," he said softly, "Maybe he just means that I'm...Really just nineteen."

Just nineteen.