[center][h1][color=fff200]Jacques Clerc[/color][/h1] [img]https://storage.googleapis.com/imgfave/image_cache/1354501949988307_animate.gif[/img] [hr] [color=fff200]Location:[/color] Market[/center] [hr] The crowd did not seem to be calming down, in fact it only seemed to get angrier and angrier with each passing moment, earning a gulp from Jacques. He began to worriedly glance around at the requests of what killing would work. Following Mary, he kept his eyes on the crowd as he tugged at his collar for a moment. [color=fff200]”Perhaps we should pick up the pace, Miss Hale,”[/color] he suggested, nervously looking at the catholic for a moment before the crowd took his gaze. Jacques seemed to be sweating at the tension in the air, the demands only growing more and more outrageous by the second. That was until one heathen comment caught his ears, "Why should we listen to you? You all are the cause of this! The church brought these things into the world! And now we're supposed to believe you'll get rid of them and protect us!" Spinning on his heel, Jacques spotted the person who dared make the comment. Before he hand a chance to remark, another heathenous remark reached his ears. "Yeah! Think about it! Jesus came back in seventy-two hours from the dead! So do these creatures! Their god did this!" The man’s head snapped to the person who dared suggest the very idea, anger boiled in his blood and he wanted to fight them. [color=fff200]”Do you really believe such heathous words?! You dare mock our merciful lord and saviour, Jesus Christ! Jesus was resurrected by God’s will! The devil has obviously blinded you and no longer will I no longer associate myself with one who has embraced the devil’s view over God’s word! I say good day to you, sir!,”[/color] roared Jacques, no longer caring that the crowd around him still wished the boy’s death. Reverend Clerc spat on the ground in front of the man as one last insult before he turned to continue walking. He could deal with that of Mary for she worshipped the same God that Jacques, himself, did. His passion was that to be reckoned with and the man was lucky that Jacques had not gone further, clenched fists around the pistol in his hand. Rage burned in his eyes as he made his way to Mary’s horse.