Aloud, he said "Silvius was right to be suspicious of members of our order: six Venators are missing or dead, and twelve just deserted. I'm more inclined to be suspicious of those cravens than ones who actually stayed, aren't you?"
"Unlike them," Cyrus continued as he tapped his helmet "I have nothing to hide...unless you count some horrific old scars. If you thought that Crestwell was a shambler based off of his injuries, then I'll keep on my helmet in case you decide to run me through where I stand once you see mine."
“Oh good, you can count!” Kate cried in mock elation. “But since Silvius happens to be one of those six, I guess I’ll just have to work with those who last saw the geezer; scars, shambling, and all, Mister Pushy.”
The Inquisitor fished in a pouch on her own belt, before producing a neatly-folded piece of parchment. Holding it before the Venator’s eyeslits, she huffed, “Here’s the letter Silvius sent me. If you can’t recognize his hand, I’ll see if someone else here can verify it for you. He obviously knew something was wrong before he disappeared, so maybe you should quit hammer-measuring with me and just take what help you can get? Or have you got an army stashed in your belt that lets you afford to be picky?” Kate tilted her head forward coquettishly, daring him to make a move. It had been so, so long since her last charge of excessive force.
Grumpy faceless man didn’t like mistress. Mistress didn’t like grumpy faceless man. But mistress said “sit,” so Bullseye would sit. Even when a new friend approached, drawn by his scent, Bullseye wagged his tail and panted in greeting, but Mistress did not say he could move yet. If he got up, bad Bullseye, no cheese. New friend would have to wait.
Fortunately for all parties present, the old, mangled man had the sense to try to defuse the situation.
"Why don't we discuss this with a drink?" He offered evenly. "You must be weary after your travels."
Kate’s head snapped in his direction, though she still held the letter in front of helmethead’s ironclad face. The offer gave her a genuine, noticeably less evil grin. “See, that’s how you defuse a situation. Lead the way, sir.” A short whistle, and Bullseye was up and at her side again, ready to follow the crippled Venator wherever he so desired.