The vicar is not among the comatose sleeping in the sanctuary; he is not within the vicarage walls at all, in fact, until a day or so after the cold snap first seizes Northcliff Pass, and then he has insinuated himself back into the ebb and flow of life within the small sanctuary. He's an adaptable creature by nature, and not even the occasional brush with the Cliffside soldiers can permanently ruffle his demeanour.

The hooded figure slinking about the interior of the sanctuary like some sort of sepulchral phantasm, however, has always put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd simply allowed himself the luxury to forget about it, while Volodymyr was away.

"What exactly are you looking for this evening, Maestro?" he begins in a deceptively soft, polite voice, standing very still and partly obscured by shadows in the sanctuary. Likely he has been observing the village physician for some time, measuring his distaste against the questions that would be raised if he let this nightly examination of the vicarage go unaddressed.