Sync’s masked gaze follows that movement. He isn’t afraid of the maze, but he does realize the threat… and would prefer to keep his injuries to a minimum.

So he stands, crossing his arms. Not leaving, but it’s a compromise.

“I have no doubt of that.” Whoever he is speaking with is serious. Another glance over the decidedly empty table. “If this is a party ‘for me,’ I don’t see why I cannot sit at an empty table.”

There is no bite in the words, though heavy skepticism coats his tone (yeah, who would throw a party for him?). Sync is simply fishing for more information, if able. And it is true - the table looks empty, aside from the man across from him.