[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia's outward appearance changed not a jot in response to the blatant disrespect of this nobody cleric, though internally she began to roil and seethe. The nerve, the unabashed gall, of this random lowlife to call [i]them[/i] freaks! She didn't let her smile falter for even a second, and took the opportunity that Gerlinde had afforded them to inhale a steadying breath before she deigned to reply.

"We were made Hunters by the White Church, and we labour at the Lord Vicar's command. At the behest of the First Hunter. We [i]are[/i] members of the White Church, my dear, in all of the ways that matter. In fact, it would be good to have a guide--would you mind showing us around the workshop? I, for one, would feel much better knowing that we had such an attentive and eagle-eyed chaperone for this labyrinthine place." Ophelia smiled, trying her best to take advantage of Gerlinde's distraction and reframe the conversation in such a way that their permission was simply implied. It helped that what she said was technically true, in the right light--she would not push back any further, though, and if they encountered further resistance Ophelia would simply comply. It was better that they came out with one prize than none at all, and she did figure that Dietrich would need blood vials--hell, it couldn't hurt to hand some off to Gehrman and Eileen too.