Still attempting to claw the gore out of his face and mouth, Dante yanked the ragged blindfold off his neck and desperately wiped his countenance of every last trace of the putrid innards that Thomas's gun had successfully splattered in a ten-foot radius. Well, that's never gonna get used again, he thought, cringing and spitting one last time. He had half a mind to give the priest a piece of his mind, but he had the nagging feeling it'd only make him want a literal chunk of it. Fucking hell did fighting etiquette run off to...? The irony of his own thought was lost on him as he spun around to face the presence he had noticed before.