Theron stared quizzically as the cleric skirted around his business in this decrepit ward of Yharnam, making it clear that he was not out on any kind of official errand. "Funny night for a lone stroll... Perhaps adventure is your muse." The pale wraith chuckled dryly, finding a foot stool on which to perch himself. "A little danger to keep things fresh? Let me be the first to say, it is rarely worth it. Old Yharnam is no playground, especially in recent months. I'm sure you are aware of the blood sickness that plagues our good people here. They have grown weary of death and beasts and even the hunters, not that we can place blame with them for that. However, consider my mouth sealed, good hunter. Should a gentleman of the Ministry find me after our departure, I will remain adamant that this night was mine alone."<br/><br/><br/>The black coat watched him with a gaze that pierced even the gloom around them. A haunting and resilient sort of glare that he knew was meant to be alarming. The man made comment on his hair and he reached up to drag his fingers through it, pulling it away from his face. "Ah, no. Perhaps in another life..." He was dismissive, turning away from those penetrating eyes. "As far as class is concerned... It isn't a terribly difficult thing to out match when it comes to the Powder Kegs. They may be a little tattered around the edges, but they are composed of decent men and women. Hunters wholeheartedly commited to their undertaking and not to mention, more accepting of outsiders like you and I."<br/><br/><br/>Theron found it unnecessary to admit to the man that beasthood was not what awaited him upon potential degradation or transformation. He merely nodded his head, giving a thin and fleeting smile. "The mercy of the Church is all encompassing but you worry for naught. I have taken precaution as perceived through my Yharnamite brothers and would sooner die by my own hand than let the scourge take me." Theron reached down to push the right flap of his coat aside, revealing a metal leg brace that matched the brass bracers fastened to his leather gloves. "Perhaps it gives me little more than false comfort, but if I have learned anything in my time here it is that even myths and superstitions have their roots in some truth."<br/><br/><br/>The black coat grew twitchy the longer they sat in the relative silence, enough so that he couldn't stay still. He began to move about the abandoned hovel, poking through wardrobes and cupboards and drawers until he came across a bottle that lightened his expression considerably. He dropped it on the table next to the little white pill as yet another offering. Theron wondered for a moment if this was just the man's own strange sense of friendliness. Like a crow he had once fed as a boy, who had begun to leave little gifts at his window each morning. Small polished pebbles, lost buttons or shiny pieces of seashells. The fact that the wraith had done nothing deserving of these acts did little to suppress his amusement in them.<br/><br/><br/>Eventually the cleric disappeared into the loft and the Keg remained aware of the man by his boots scuffing along the weathered and creaky floorboards. When he was far enough in not to be overlooking the balcony Theron snatched up the pill and pocketed it. The cleric could have the liquor. With all of the rain it would serve him poorly as a weapon and even less so as drink. "You must have been very ambitious to find yourself among Ministry ranks." His tone was casual but pointed, as if he wished to draw the conversation away from himself.<br/><br/><br/>Theron eyed the room idly until he found an old sewing kit half hidden under a threadbare armchair. He unfastened and removed his coat revealing a simple vest and collared shirt underneath, both shredded over the now smooth skin of his chest, pale as death and blemished now with silvery scars from past altercations. "If you insist on robbing a dead man's house you might as well bring something useful. Might you find an undamaged shirt I would be very grateful." He called out to the church hunter as he worked to repair some of the damage to his outer coat.<br/><br/><br/>When the hunter returned, the young Keg sat quietly in his new chair, stitching up the dense and bloodied fabric with thick black thread. He looked up breifly, "Aye. Better. Wouldn't want to stay here longer than necessary anyway. I ventured out alone tonight to find my own partner. He might be as right a bastard as they come but he is never abscent from our pre-hunt gathering. I fear something must have kept him from us." There was something akin to concern on Theron's face. Hamish was not only his partner, but considered something of a friend as well or at least as close to one as the former aristocrat could commit himself to. There was really no telling what the man had gotten himself into. "We are all preoccupied... I just hope he hasn't let that distraction get the better of him." Like himself, he thought with dismay.<br/><br/><br/>When the cleric invited himself along for whatever ride he thought they might be in store for, the Keg scoffed. "Name's Theron, but I'm sure a proper hunter like yourself has more important business than to assist me. You've already saved my life once, let that be enough to sway you away from danger."<br/><br/><br/>In truth he had no idea where Hamish was or what state he might find the man in if he did happen upon him. Blind drunk, blood drunk or worse. With a black coat on his tails it was sure to spell doom in any number of ways. Not to mention, having any member of the Healing Church this close was dangerous even for him. "Would it not be best if we part ways? You to your secretive business and me with earnest gratitude for your intervention and the blessings of the Church on this terrible night." Theron gave the cleric a coy wink as he knotted and cut the thread with a slim dagger from his belt. Yes, it was best to keep away from the clerics, beastly in their own rights. Despite his odd behavior, Theron was sure he was no different from the rest. A risk even he was unwilling to take.