[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		 paused, just adjacent to Pallid as he explained what he wanted of them before they departed. Farren’s smile grew slightly as he feigned an almost sickly glee—almost as if mirroring Pallid’s smile—he’d taken to calling the man that in his head. It was easier than ‘Bugeyes’ or something similar. Internally though, Farren’s mind whirred through several thoughts almost simultaneously as his morality and practicality simultaneously came to the fore. For some reason he had no issue divorcing the thoughts and emotions in his mind from the tells of his face and body…huh, perhaps he’d been something of an actor in his past life—so to speak.

Foremost in his thoughts were considerations of how abhorrent it would be to deliver all these helpless, unconscious men and women—potential Hunters all—into the clutches of the Harrow. The thought disgusted him on a fundamental level and some part of him recoiled, though none of it shown on his face as he nodded to Pallid, turned on his heel and walked towards the nearest cot. At the same time, he flashed Ophelia a look that spoke volumes.

It was a scowl, the wicked smile melting off his face like candle wax on metal in a furnace. There was a strange sort of quiet rage in his eyes even as he took up a body and then plastered the smile back on his features. Something about the disconnect between his actions and his expression in that brief moment communicated one thing: “Play along.”

Turning back towards Pallid, Farren started towards him, moving noticeably slower with the man over his shoulder. Notably, he’d lifted the unconscious hunter with his left arm, leaving him still armed in his right. The reality was that Farren was playing up how heavy the bulky man was. The reality was that the man was startlingly light. He had an inkling that he’d already been strong before his transformation…but now…it was less like carrying the deadweight of a person, and more like…carrying an awkwardly shaped, but barely full sack of potatoes.

Discarding that thought, Farren considered their current environment…that was why he’d tried to signal to Ophelia to play along. Fighting inside was one thing. Fighting amongst numerous unconscious people in a room crowded by cots…with suboptimal weapons while they were also outnumbered? It seemed…less than wise.