‘What did I ever do to deserve this’ he muttered to himself as he ran his fingers through his short mop of hair, tussling it this way and that whilst scratching his head – his forehead, still sporting streaks of gun power, creasing as he thought on what to do next. ‘Ok look – whether you choose to believe me or not, the creature within that house is nothing you have ever dealt with before in your life. The nearest you might have come to hearing of it is through some book that you’ve read, or some fairy tale that’s been passed down so many generations that they’ve lost track of what is real and what isn’t.’ He began to stub the end of his right foot against the ground – the scuffed black boots that he wore making an indent within the soft earth, which stubbornly clung to the leather of his footwear as he shook his ankle from side to side. It was a nervous act to be sure, but it helped Kanz in some small way to focus his mind in such a short period of time – being one who much preferred to sit and think and plan, even though others would say he pulled off his best work off of the top of his head. ‘So here is the plan – you lead me to where your aunt is, you help her out of there, and I’ll…’ his voice faltered here just a little, suddenly sounding a great deal less decisive than it had until this point ‘…deal with the wee beastie as best as I can, ok?’<br/><br/>Wheeling on his heel, he turned and began to make his way after her towards the back door of the pub – his movement looking a little awkward, as if his feet were moving faster than the rest of his body, and lacking a little in the ability to walk in a straight line. As he reached the door, he visibly shuddered – holding out one hand to grab hold of the cold brick that outlined the doorway, fingers squeezing tightly against it. ‘Ugh, Hawthorne… perfect, just perfect… I’m gonna feel sick for hours now…’ he muttered as he took a moment to compose himself, dry heaved rather hard twice, and then staggered into the kitchen.