( A smile, again far too feline, a flickered stretch of bitter enthusiasm, then gone. )

Because, my little friend, I have nothing to fear.

( Look at him, the spitting image of every saint who's shrouded in blacks and darkness, who slithers like an uninvited snake, who speaks in riddles and offers no true guidance. What has he to fear? )

My conscience is clear. I have been asked to assist a dear friend in his last voyage. I am here, humbly doing his bidding. What business have I with priests?