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

It struck Ophelia how the cleric had notably not mentioned the part of her retort where she had mentioned that they were doing the Lord Vicar's work, and that he clearly had no intention of ever simply letting them pass. She weighed up their options in that split second: there was every chance that going to get permission from Harold would work out in their favour--they could offer a false report on Crowmother, and perhaps get permission to move about freely too. There was also every chance that it wouldn't, and she would not see them squander one success for a miniscule chance at another. They could forfeit this battle to win the war and let their enemies be none the wiser: this was a war of information and subtlety, not might.

"Asking the Lord Vicar seems a wonderful idea. I trust that he'll set everything right--he's such a nice old man, isn't he?" Ophelia spoke, her eyes sparkling with thoughts unspoken as she looked around. "I'm truthfully very glad that you've such a mind for security--it's a dangerous night, and we all must play our part to see it through. Shall we wait here?" she added, inviting the cleric to go ahead. Once the cleric left and was out of earshot, Ophelia surveyed the people about her and saw that even should she speak as softly as possible there was every chance that they'd hear... and that would scupper their plans of subtlety. She looked over at Farren and gave him a pointed stare as her smile dropped and her eyes very briefly flicked over to the bag--her head was turned such that any onlookers wouldn't be in a position to see it, so she felt safe doing that much, at least, and waited to see if a familiar glint of recognition could be glanced in Farren's eyes.

Farren watched the exchange with what appeared to be bored disinterest and faint annoyance. When the cleric told those about to watch them and left to ask the Vicar, Farren glanced to Ophelia and he knew, before she’d even turned what the best course of action was. It was time to leave. So, lightly nudging her shoulder as he passed her—before her eyes even fully landed on his features—Farren moved with an air of dismissive unflappable swagger. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Tell the Lord Vicar I wish him a fine night,”[/b][/color] Farren managed to say, the words coming out dismissive and bored rather than fulled with righteous fury. He’d been in a good mood before this and while their interaction with the cleric was rather annoying, this didn’t sour his mood enough to make it impossible to lie as easily as he breathed.