[h3]Eastern Yharnam, Hunter's clinic[/h3]
Victor mostly seemed as if he was barely even listening to what Draco and Marcus were saying, apparently concentrating on retrieving his weapon off the ground. Interestingly the Messengers near him, visible only to Marcus, Arcturus and Torquil, started making rude gestures and just generally taunting the Hunter as he crouched to pick up his sword, without Victor in any way indicating that he registered their behavior or presence.
With his weapon in hand he stood back up, swinging the giant sword over his right shoulder and onto his back, where he took just a moment to find the right place for it. Once it was in place the mechanism inside the blade produced a faint click, and the much smaller silver sword within the greater Holy Blade was released through the edge of its blade-scabbard, leaving the giant blade stuck to Victor's back. The stark contrast between the relatively clean, pristine silver blade of the small sword compared to the rest of the bloody and beaten man's appearance was quite remarkable.

The only times Victor had any kind of perceivable reaction to the others' words was when Draco mentioned that the offending Hunter had had “beast like claws,” and when Marcus finished his own contribution to the conversation with an utterance of “for now.”
Even someone barely paying attention to his expression would likely notice Victor's frown at the mention of the beast-clawed Hunter, showing intense displeasure at hearing about it, but someone paying closer intention might also register that an actual physical change overcame the Hunter's eyes as he frowned, with his irises starting to shift and churn once more, and for just a second the animal glow returned to his pupils. Then he seemed to calm back down, his expression relaxed into its resting look of general annoyance and disinterest, and his eyes resumed a more human appearance.
At Marcus' utterance a similar look of displeasure came over Victor's face, only this time without the unnatural change in his eyes. “You're one of those...” he muttered under his breath, his disgust evident from the hushed words, but likely too quiet for Marcus to hear himself.

“Here's what I'm gonna do,” Victor finally spoke out loud, glancing around the room, still showing no signs of awareness of the Messengers at all. “First I light the censer outside of here to keep other beasts from getting in here. Then you –” he indicated Draco with a nod, “– take me to where these other people are holed up, and I kill the madmen before they can make an even bigger mess of things. Once that's taken care of I'll take the saint back down to the shelter and stash her – and anyone else that comes with and wants to – in there. Now, I only have one...”
He padded the bag on his left hip as he said this, only to suddenly stop mid-sentence as he apparently was not feeling what he was expecting upon handling the pouch. Looking down, it seemed that Victor only now noticed the empty blood vial that was still sticking out of his left thigh, which he simply stared at with disbelief for a couple of seconds before he reached down with his left hand and quickly pulled it out, only to pocket the empty vial.
“I have [I]no[/I] blood vials left,” he corrected himself, a hint of distress in his voice as his eyes started shifting nervously around the room, his confidence visibly shaken, “so next I'll head back to the Cathedral Ward to resupply before joining the hunt. You can follow as far as you want. I don't care. But if you come with me, you can properly arm yourselves at the Cathedral Ward, get some blood vials of your own and maybe find some other Hunters to band together with. You know, so you're slightly less likely to die tonight.”

Marcus, meanwhile, would know that the currently unloaded rifle he had taken from the huntsman was still in the back room of the clinic, with the cots with comatose Hunters-to-be. Going back to retrieve it would be a simple matter. Turning back towards the door, however, he might notice a second rifle, similar to the one he had seized, on the floor in this room, seemingly one of the weapons dropped by the fleeing huntsmen. Next to it, among some other rubble, lay two small pouches: one shapeless against the floor, its opening closed with a piece of string, and another that had fallen with its string untied, spilling a handful of small dark-gray pellets among the debris.