"Of some sort," he agrees.

Fitting, he thinks: his profession is only recognized by those with training of their own. It isn't quite Assassin hissed through one's teeth, but it's the closest he's heard in many months.

He watches Kovacs, still sat on the floor, weight leant back on one hand. Relaxed despite the gravity in voice.

"When your associate said you were a follower of someone who led an uprising, I was intrigued."