Faolan steps forward again, until he's standing right next to her. He may not have scars himself, not like the ones she's referencing. But that doesn't mean that he hadn't struggled himself. Living on the street. Taking jobs that were frankly reckless, illegal in some cases, because he didn't care what happened to him at the time. And here he is now, in charge of Hillingdon itself.

"You're here now," he says, gently. More gentle than anyone who knows him would think him capable, to be sure. He sees something of himself in her, though. And he didn't have anyone there, saying nice things to him while he made poor decisions. He was too stupid, too stubborn for that. "And that's what matters."

He nods to the books in her arms. "Let me know if you need help? With the research." He glances up at her, making sure that he meets her eyes. To let her know he isn't disapproving of her investigation, merely suggesting she take an intelligent approach to it, that's all.