Macabre. [ He murmurs it, softly amused. ] At this point, I think I've thrown in my lot with macabre.

[ She reorients for an escape route, and he lets her, posture casual as he inspects the walls of their spooky glowing church. It's not like he's ruffled by wariness. His reputation precedes him; so too, apparently, does his vibe. ]

Less freebies, more consolation prizes... Sometimes after a particularly rough month you'll get a novelty T-shirt.

Even then, they'll try to get your blood along the way. I try not to take it personally.

[ He always takes it personally regardless. ]