[ It's what he gathers from her, so far — that she means to utilise him for this purpose of hers, this... war. But the outright question — 'Are you friend or foe?' — reveals more truths, perhaps, things slowly unveiling themselves in the middle of this abrupt collision between them.

These are his two options. Friend, foe. The girl's challenge leaves no room for neutrality, which is uncommon for what he is and how he functions: most of humankind lie in that neutral space. He comes to specific souls for specific purposes. He is summoned so specifically. Everything else is... nothingness.

(And again, he is reminded that he is not dealing with most of humankind, now. She, this, is something entirely different.)

He's silent for a few long moments, absorbing what the girl has spoken of, in regards to her world, her war. It still makes little sense to him, but he doesn't dismiss any of it as a non-truth. His own realm beyond the veil would register as just as unfamiliar to anyone not from it.

Edward eyes her, then slowly bends his elbows to nudge himself upwards a bit, with a slight huff, eyebrows arched ever more severely. To think she's so comfortably perched on him—! ]

I will not be your foe, Miss Manx. I am the protector of our kind. You shall have no enemy in me.

But if I am to declare myself a friend, then we might speak with more civility. Perhaps you might remove yourself from my person so that we can.

[ With a rush of his mind, he could send the little devil flying off from him, he thinks — but he'll be gentle with her, that flash of anger having dissolved as quickly as it had come. ]