Agnes and Andrew. Names he knew. He frowned in thought, but rather than reach back through the countless decades he had spent existing and aiding humans he simply reached out to touch the two spirits within her. Andrew he recognized swiftly, each of the Apostles spirits that any of his kind should know well. What was much more shocking was the fact that he was so aggressively commanding this mortal woman, his voice almost frenzied in its fury.<br/><br/>Agnes took longer to identify. She was quieter than Andrew, more timid, but no less angry. After a moment of casting through his memory he did realize who she was, another saint, one of the few women to be canonized by the mortal church. He spared a moment for himself to feel disgusted by the way mortals had twisted the values of their own faith, but set it aside as he examined Charlotte more closely. "I know them both, it's true," he murmured, "though it only deepens the mystery of why they have chosen to use you as they have. Any business they might have had with this world is long concluded."<br/><br/>While he pondered he heard footsteps, and glanced over at the hallway in time to see a doctor round the bend and step toward the nurse's station. He turned back to Charlotte with a frown. "It seems we aren't going to be able to get down to the bottom of this for the time being. Promise me you'll behave yourself, won't you? And Agnes, Andrew--no whispering at her to commit acts of violence. You are saints, the both of you. Remember yourselves and know I am watching, and that I walk with His authority." He stood with a soft grunt, leaning on his cane, and after a moment offered his hand for a handshake. "We will speak again, though. As soon as can be managed."