[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		     had considered complimenting Victor–even in his muddled mood–for his deduction with very few leads, in regards to the Harrow…but the man had bulled on, intent on explaining why his companion had chosen to stay at the base of Rebirth’s Rise. However, Farren wasn’t looking at the White Church Hunter as he spoke, his gaze instead peered ahead of their descent, far below to the three street intersection. So while Victor spoke almost proudly–even rather joyfully–of the choice, Farren’s expression shifted from mildly interested and difficult to read…to distinctly grim and annoyed. By the time they were closer and more details had made themselves clear–and Victor had noticed the catastrophe that came into focus before them–Farren was already taking the Blade of Mercy from his hip. White knuckled fingers dug into its finely crafted grip even as Victor’s voice trailed off and the elevator came to a rest in the square housing.

Driven by a series of mechanisms that Farren vaguely recalled having studied at some point in the past, the cage’s doors automatically shifted open, the metal parting to allow them ingress into the disastrous scene.

For some reason, Farren found himself feeling particularly rankled by the scene before him–and it wasn’t the gore.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“You know Victor, I never told you, but I fucking hate being right,”[/b][/color] Farren gritted out, voice low in his throat, quieter so as not to rouse attention. With a swift, sinuous motion, Farren stepped from the elevator’s cage, his eyes peeled for details as he took in the grisly scene. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Wits about you,”[/b][/color] he rasped, perhaps for Victor, perhaps for Torquil. Maybe both. In that moment, he didn’t trust Victor’s instincts as far as he could throw ‘em–and one couldn’t rightly hurl a blood-damned fucking [i]concept[/i].

This sort of situation was precisely why he’d wished Ophelia’s little investigatory trip could have waited. Some part of him knew that knowledge was power, and it’d likely put them in a better position to maneuver themselves so long as she successfully rejoined them, but in that moment he barely cared.

Farren kept his freehand at his belt, in case he needed to draw one of his loaded firearms.