He watches as Wilhelm scrambles for his flame, instinctively taking a step forward to help stamp it out— and then thinking better of it when he realizes the boy's trying to pick it back up. It gives him a moment to recover from his own surprise at nearly stumbling into someone else.

"No, it's alright—" he offers with a slight, almost distracted shrug, eyeing the flame in his hand, "— I can pretend I didn't see anything, if that's any help."

After a moment he drags his gaze up from the flame to his face. He looks young, can't be any older than eighteen. His demeanor softens a bit, eyebrows raising.

"Should you be working with that alone?" His gaze shifts over Wilhelm's shoulder, then back, thoughtfully. "I'm not up to date on the rules yet, but you should probably at least have a fire extinguisher handy..."

His tone implies that he's gently teasing. The sight of the boy holding a flame in his hand disturbs Kahlil more than he'll admit or show, something he pushes back like so many other truths about himself that he has no time or will for.