“Fuck,” Gosling said as the man strode away from her. “Fuck …”

For heaven's sake, Philomel said quickly, He's got the entire wrong end of the stick. So useless. He thought he wanted us to hire him to hunt.

What do you want me to do my lady? Gosling said, her hand growing tight on the stem of her wine glass. Around her men were beginning to near, one even reaching into his pocket to pull out some glinting gold.

Philomel sucked in her breath, rolling back her shoulders and moving. You try to find what information you can from the cleverest of those men, Gosling. I will deal with this one. He may be useful for helping us eventually hunt the beast that we want.

Gosling nodded, remembering what the bartender had said about the Huntsman simply being the one 'to talk to’ about finding monsters. But that meant many things. They had not got any further in gaining information, nowhere closer in discovering what sort of genetic experiments were going on here. But that sort of information needed to be requested in private. Hence trying to persuade him upstairs, where he would be more open …

The woman scanned her eyes over the men around her and picked out the one with the cleanest clothes and the brightest looking face.

Meanwhile Philomel strode, her hooves clacking on the cobblestones as she made her way over to the door. The same door that the Huntsman was currently opening. The man pushed the door open and paused upon seeing her. There was a moment of silence, then he stepped aside, holding the door open with one hand.

“Your companion is inside.” His tone was even and pleasant, but also cool, reserved. With his mask up, she couldn't make out his expression.

Philomel twisted up her lips in a smile and shook her head. “No … my friend in there is fine by herself. I would like to talk to you on the other hand.” She tilted her head to the side and gazed at him. “Will you? I am actually her superior so perhaps you should talk to me anyway.”

He let out a soft sound - amusement, exasperation perhaps. “If you must, but I believe she thinks I am quite useless.” One shoulder shrugged. “You need not a hunter, so I do not know what help I can be to you. But, if you'd speak, we can.”

“Perhaps I must,” Philomel shrugged, coming closer to the man, her eyes trying to find some sort of human beneath the mask. “But really all we need is information. You dismissed her before she could ask further. Really, she only wanted you alone.” And now her body was a foot from his, her brows arched and her voice low. “Tell me, can you keep secrets? If you can then close the door, please.”

The Huntsman lifted one white eyebrow, and closed the door behind him, cutting off the sounds of the pub. “If that is the case, she went about it entirely wrong. It is rare but I do at times obtain information - but she asked after my hunts, then informed me I was useless. Not exactly encouraging to further conversation. So, you wish to know something?” He tilted his head to the side, indicating a nearby alley. “I doubt anyone would interrupt us, but there may be more privacy if we get off the street.”

“She went after your hunts because most men like to be made to feel they are important,” Philomel kept her eyes steadily on his. She decided flat honesty was the right way here, as he obviously was not a normal individual to be subverted by flirtation. “Thus you would be brought into her wiles, and go upstairs with her to be alone with her. That is one of the only ways we women have power over you men.” She started down the alleyway, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her white blade, which she had chosen to hand rest on her hip today.