Kieran took a step further into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft but firm click. He tilted his head as the man spoke, irritation obvious in his tone. "Number three, huh?" He tapped the flat of his blade against his thigh thoughtfully. "Sounds like you're in high demand."

He leaned casually back against the door, resting his shoulderblades against the smooth wood. As far as he could tell, the man had no weapons on him; there could always be a gun or knife hidden under his shirt or tucked into the waistband of his pants, of course, but that meant he would waste precious time trying to extract the weapon from his clothes - precious time that Kieran could use to pounce. The contents of the room looked relatively harmless as well, no weapons lying out that he could spot.

On a table behind the man sat a small wooden box. It reminded Kieran of a puzzle that had been folded up and shaped into a cube. He pointed to it with the tip of his knife. "Is that what you've got yourself locked in here for? Beating a puzzle?" He grinned at the man, as if Kieran wasn't pointing a sharp knife at him.

He pushed off of the door and began to stroll slowly around the perimeter of the room. He didn't turn his back to the man as he walked; even if there were no weapons on his person, Kieran didn't want to let his guard down preemptively.

He turned back to face the man, gesturing vaguely around the room with his knife. "This your office? It's not bad. Shitty building, of course, but this is loads better than what I saw downstairs." He scoffed. "It looks like no one's been down there in the last decade."

Kieran eyed the man carefully as he continued to circle the room, finally pausing by an old wooden desk on the opposite side of the ofice. He leaned against the wooden surface, studying the expression of his target. The other man hadn't moved an inch since Kieran entered the room, but there was something restless about him, like he was a spring coiled too tight.

Kieran tapped the edge of his blade against the desk, mindlessly carving short swirls and lines into the laminated wood. "You said I'm not the first one to try to kill you. Why's that?" He freed his knife from the wood, bringing it up to brush against his lip thoughtfully. "You work for someone important? Know too much about some top-secret project?"

Privately, Kieran assumed it was one of those two possibilites, or something similar. Why else would the man be holed up alone in an abandoned-looking building, hits being put out on him left and right?

He slid off of the desk's smooth surface, approaching the man calmly as he kept his blade swinging loosely by his side. His very presence in the building was a threat to the man, he knew, but he had no interest in attacking him quite yet. He was painfully curious about the man - what he was involved in that made him such a popular target, why he was all alone in this abandoned building, why even Fields hadn't known the details of this assignment. Kieran came to a halt directly in front of the man; they were so close that the toes of their shoes nearly brushed together. He crossed his arms over his chest casually and tilted his head as he considered the man. "This doesn't have to end like all the other times, you know. I just want to know why you're here." He held his hands up, palms out, as if to display that he was no threat.

It was a lie, of course. Even if the man caved and spilled all of his secrets to Kieran, he would still have to kill him. There was no way he could return to headquarters and tell Fields that he had let a target go willingly, and even if he kept it to himself, he was sure that news of the man's survival would get back to the Saints somehow. No, the man had to die today. That was non-negotiable.