Clive turned to Anna with the great grandpappy of all disapproving glares. Every day it seemed the alchemist said some new and creative blasphemy and he couldn't help being mildly impressed. This feeling was, of course, far surpassed by his irritation and concern for her eternal soul. Maybe someday, some day in the far, [i]far[/i] future, Lord willing and the creek don't rise, he would get through to her. 
"I pray for you every day." With a glance at Junia and narrowed eyes he added, "And now you too."

Returning his attention to the corpse, he scratched his chin for a moment in thought. Considering the elaborate nature of the death it told him a few things about what it could be but a lot more about what it wasn't.
"Whatever happened here was planned and took some sorta intelligence to pull off. This wasn't a feeding, or at least not any kind I've seen. The whole ink business makes me think it was something that can think, something that schemes, so we'd best be real careful going forward."
Clive didn't like things that could scheme. Schemers are unpredictable, sometimes messy, and don't always follow patterns. He didn't like when the prey was as smart or smarter than him. That made things less of a hunt and more of a fair fight with extra steps and he never fought fair if he could help it.