The shadows that gathered in the darkness at the far rear of the upturned Hackney carriage that Maximillian had chosen as his hiding-spot seemed to shift, to stir, as if one of the bloated and monstrous carrion crows of Yharnam had made its home here and was about to heave itself bodily at the intruder. But no, it was merely the long coat of a dark-dressed man standing quietly with his back to the wall, as somber and eerie as an unmasked plague doctor.

"Hmm. You certainly did startle me." The words were barely more than a murmur, almost submerged beneath the cacophony of distant beasts and beast-hunters; but he didn't [i]seem[/i] startled, not in the slightest. Indeed, his stillness and the calmness of his voice and half-shadowed face seemed positively unnatural, considering the chaos erupting around them. The scent of burning flesh and wood filled the air, thin eye-stinging acrid smoke hanging listlessly as if even the wind were afraid to move freely along the city's streets. 

The man's eyes rested briefly on the flustered and fearful Maximillian before shifting once again to the moving figures slowly approaching their hiding spot and up the street towards a solitary figure wielding a poleaxe. "Be very still." Was he advising Maximillian, or speaking to himself? Perhaps it didn't matter, for the whispered words were equally as good advice regardless. "They will pass."

It seemed for a moment that he was quite set to follow his own advice and remain as still as a sparrow beneath the hawk's shadow until a sudden clanging sound echoed down the grimy cobbled street; jarring, sure to attract attention. And then, a voice called out - uncertain and nervous, not at all like the inchoate ramblings of the huntsmen.

The dark-dressed man froze still as he struggled to make out the source of this sound, eyes darting towards the trio of beast-hunters to see if they too had heard it; and the fingers of his left hand buried in his coat pocket tightened around something hidden there.