"Wait, hold on—!" He stopped mid-sentence. There before him, grinning like the sly bastard he was, stood Jacques, who hadn't moved an inch, thick black cloak worn about his withers and over his flanks with light grey trim, and a new wide-brimmed hat that perched on his head. Man loved his hats, sans any fancy feathered plume for a change. Beside him hovered a rather heavy-looking bag that clinked as he shook it.