Anton had remained in the corner, listening to the Court. Kreighton's arrival had held his interest from the word Sanctified. He wandered over to the newcomer, bringing the smell of burning fields with him. His hand twitched, as he felt, and ignored, his Beast voicing its aggression towards the Succubi and the Shadow.
The Haunt decided that there was something about the simpering, impotent demeanour of Martha Villiers which he found vaguely offensive. It was also difficult to accept her humility at face value. Idly, he wondered if the disgust he felt for her bore any resemblance to the way his own curse coloured people's perceptions of him. He lets the thought fester in his head, while awaiting the right moment to cut in.
"Evening there, Brother," Anton drawled, heavy and haggard. "Forgive my eavesdropping, but I overheard that you follow the teachings of the Centurion. Seems right for me to introduce myself. I go by Anton Flores, Deacon to Sacramento's Bishop."