The alleyways seem a great deal bigger without Lancer standing nearby. It's oddly quiet - surely there should be someone out and about nearby?
As it turns out, the someone who is happens to be lurking in a shadowy side passage. He looms over Laoise, looking nearly as large as Berserker in the gloom. What little of his face that's visible appears to have been carved by a sculptor with a missing hand - gashed, jagged scars mar a craggy face. A leather jacket valiantly tries to stretch over his frame. "Out late, aren't you?" he says, voice oddly quiet and low.