Deacon looked at the old crone with harsh eyes. She was probably some blind nutcase who sits in grave yards and says wierd things. "Whatever old lady. Come on Scott." He turns to Scott and says, "That was more than less than unhelpful, wasn't it. And they locked me in an assylum. She can have my bed."<br/><br/>He points into the fog, "I'm sure its just over there, come on lets keep moving. No sense in waisting time with that nutcase."