From the shadows ahead, something twists and crawls out of its depths, a pungent and sour stench of blood that only a handful few situations could make fills the air. So thick even Crowe could feel it, a glance at her face revealed an expression of someone ready to puke again.
With a problem at hand, Kyrie decides to ignore her, for now, focusing on the newcomer stepping out of the shadows. A man tall and wide, without his upper clothes, drenched in blood all over, his hair almost red with the vital fluid.
Kyrie furrowing his eyebrows, he frows. Hand on Wolf Prince all too eager to cut down the newcomer. "You are Albert, I presume?" Despite the cold, he walks all too unbothered, rather the question is what makes him make a tongue click in annoyance.
