Words fail him right now, but there's nothing convoluted about the Balladeer's scoff. "He heard me playing in the park. Everything was peaceful and great." Tilting his head slightly, he taps at the fading bruise along his cheekbone. That should speak for itself.

"Listen." He stops, lets go of her hand, and turns to speak to her in a low tone. "That guy is completely normal. Nothing wrong with him at all. I'm sure he's absolutely safe to be around." It's frustrating, trying to say something so vital in such a roundabout way, but his tone is obviously tense and wary. "I don't think that - there's nothing - "

He cuts himself off with a grumble. What is he trying to say? "He didn't do anything, and it's quiet!" is what he ends up saying, with an edge of desperation. Both because he knows that wasn't very helpful, and because it really is far too loud when he lets himself hear it. He can't pick it apart, he can't even understand all the words, and it's scary.