[His eyes wander to the ceiling in contemplation.]

We may hide from horror only in the heart of horror. [He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. His hands are used as a cushion.] It is at such frightful times that mankind has prayed for help from benevolent spirits. But too many of us are unable to endure the approach of beings so different from mankind.

Plus it's all superstition, you know.

[And now his eyes pin her to her chair. He doesn't intimidate, mind. He watches. He observes. He learns.]

Dear Gerald got himself gunned down. I suppose the pool of hell-fire was his concern. Was it yours?