Boiling within age-old veins is the profound irritation and loathing toward a certain sewer rat, and such feelings ooze out through the single, swift motion of his cane. β Sewer rats are such pitiful creatures, aren't they, Emily? β Though still sheathed, the weight of the concealed blade upon the other's shoulder surely conveys the warning he wishes to give; even more so than the jabs of his -and his beloved doll's- words. β α΄·α΅α΅α΅α΅α΅α΅α΅ ~ ! α΅Κ°α΅ΚΈ Λ’α΅αΆ¦βΏα΅ ! β Truly, they do. Or else how would he have traced where this one had been? Well, there is always this sweet knowing that Vincent Nightray would show up whenever the traces of the past century threaten to surface β But! No, they just stink is all. β Indeed! It is impossible not to trace them when they stink so horrendously, ne~?