Honestly? The Balladeer has not entirely managed to fool even himself into thinking he has this under control. This assassin is not the sort of man who can entirely be controlled by anybody. Especially not himself, he very recently came to realize. "We do," he agrees with Greta, for lack of anything else to do, and draws a little closer to her. Maybe the two of them can just sort of sidle out the front gates without anyone noticing. The scene can try going on without him. There admittedly isn't much of a scene to have without him, but right now he's not sure he cares.

"Nonsense!" the prisoner scoffs. "What could possibly be more important that this? And it is the height of rudeness not to make introductions - I am Charles Guiteau, miss. Author, preacher..." The newly identified Guiteau reaches out to grab Greta's hand. He'll kiss it if she lets him. "...diplomat."

The Balladeer sputters in indignation. "You are not! You have never been a diplomat! Get - " He steps forward, trying to wave Guiteau away from both Greta and himself. "Just go!"