Ryder watched him in silence for a long, long moment, reflective. "What kind of things are you talking about?" he asked at last. "This--" his eyes flicked to the knife "--I've had this for probably longer than you've been alive, and it's never turned on me. What happened to you?" Something had--the kid was a little nutty, but in a sense that seemed to be a close cousin to Ryder's own demi-madness.