"It must really be the month for ghostly activity. I hear the voice of a dead man."

Yes, Ravus is still feeling just as angry and just as petty as when he sent that note. He's already drained a glass of milk, then a finger of whiskey, but the awful taste still lingers. He's been circling the kitchen, searching for something to cleanse his palate.

He eyes the rubber fowl Ignis carries with suspicion. He'd thought the younger Lucians to blame for those, but he must have been wrong about that as well. It seems Ignis' deviance far extends what he'd previously suspected.