[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]                  was glad not to notice anything else out of place before the footfalls became what was clearly the sound of a small group–perhaps three people–before the figures rounded the bend. Farren’s gaze shifted to catch them and immediately his gaze zigzagged over them at a frenetic pace, taking in arms and armaments alike.

[i]‘Black Church Hunters…ah, and our errant[/i] comrade,[i]’[/i] Farren thought in silence, remaining slightly tense, half-coiled and ready to strike if need be. Hunters were not necessarily friends, after all, but then Ophelia spoke and indeed Victor’s reaction eased his suspicions in kind. Farren shifted his stance, not quite so ready to strike anymore–though that could easily change if need be. His expression shifting back to its default almost-frown, Farren seemed to ease back slightly–not changing position but sort of leaning into a more relaxed position.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“Running to or from?”[/b][/color] he asked, his piercing eyes locked on Victor, a note of amusement in his voice–though the look on his face spoke of at least some accusation. After all, there had been no guarantee of finding reinforcements for the man to return with to help in an even remotely timely manner. Besides, while Farren had somewhat downplayed Victor’s conduct to Ophelia–who doubtless had not been fooled–Farren remained altogether displeased with the fact that the White Church Hunter had essentially left them to die. To the azure-eyed hunter it mattered little that said death would hardly have been permanent.