Kyle follows, eyes darting around to note all possible exits and hiding places, a force of habit. He accepts the shake as she offers it, returning it in kind before hesitating a fraction at her words. When he drops her hands, he slides his own into his pockets.

"Kyle Sutton. Shit. I didn't mean to- I didn't realize you were the head honcho. I get if you don't have time to chat." Kyle casually pulls his pocket away from his body as a vague way of pointing back to the front door, an offer to leave if she wants.