Granger had a neutral, unfazed look with his dead eyes, carrying the weight in his arms with an spiky, lavender haired assassin that appeared right when he is about to leave. It doesn't seem like he is one from the demon hunting association, but more of a freelance assassin. He looked down at the lady that laid, passed out on his arms, and blinks once, twice, before he looked back at the man. Intimidating, he must be, as usual.

"Is it the gold, you are rooting for, I wonder." The marksman broke the silence between them, before he side eyes towards the direction of gold scattered all over the floor.

"I have no interest in gold, dear marksman." The assassin grinned at him lopsidedly, before slipping his blades onto his belt, made to hold them.

"Just as I thought, you are one from the association, no? Worry not, I am of the same pledge, just on a different, partnered alliance. The name is, Gusion." Gusion stepped closer towards Granger, realizing the assassin's height being much taller than his, a well-sculpted face to emerge from the shadows of the room. His hair was dripping wet from the rain that only strengthened as the two conversed.

"Granger." He replied coldly, his low voice echoing throughout the dim lit room.

"Do take her, wherever she needs to be, I have matters to attend to. This isn't supposed to be a solo mission--" Granger pauses, lifting his arms a bit more to handle the woman, still unconscious from the trauma as she is passed onto the arms of the assassin, lying limp. He sighs out, tugging at the zipper of his collar to pull down and expose his perfectly chiseled features, the scar on his left eye becoming a lot more prominent, and the bags under his eyes now too obvious.

He cares not for now, about the way he looks.

He is yet to report about his findings, and how things escalated far too quickly. Afterall, the mere death of a demon hunter itself is a huge sacrifice for their not-so big association. Though, thinking about it, he doesn't belong in any of the squads that exists within the association, and his death wouldn't be that much of a loss.

He passed by the assassin in an attempt to leave, only to hear another set of footsteps in a rush, each step echoing throughout the room.

"Relax, that is my-" Before the assassin could talk, Granger reloded his gun and aimed directly at the main entrance, and this was heard by the lady sniper who was in a rush for back up. As soon as she appeared, Granger wasn't able to respond to it quickly due to her quicker reflexes, and he found a sniper aimed at him directly, and there he saw the familiar lady that was with the assassin back in the tavern. Her hair flows like cotton, braided down as it extends on the level of her shin, and that same eyepatch she wore. Granger was speechless, his gun still aimed at the lady whose eyes peirces through his own.

"Lesley, no." Gusion quickly came towards the marksman's aid, though with the weight in his arms still. The sight of the assassin made the sniper pull back, straightening up as her face shifted to that of a neutral look. The repositioning made Granger put back his gun onto his leg holsters, signifying the retreat of firearms, and for the tension to dissipate in between them.

"He is from the association." Gusion explained, after a sigh escaped from his lips. The lady marksman walked towards Granger, examining his looks, scrutinizing every detail with a smile forming on the side of her lips. With their faces inches apart, Granger was able to see the details of the woman wearing the eyepatch a lot more clear, though the distance bothers him a bit. Granger finds her lopsided smile a bit teasing, but he shows no other emotions, not wanting to be 'read'.

The female gunner leaned back, the tip of her gun being held by her long fingers, while the other extended as she spoke.

"Lesley Vance. And you are?" Lesley held out her hand, which Granger clutched onto with a little shake.

"Granger."

"It is rare to see a marksman from the association, more over, alone. The association, I believe, acts as a group, no?" The marksman pulled his hand back from the shake, zipping up his collar.

"I came here by impulse. Guilt would bother me until I die. I could not withstand the look of that woman's face in agony. Judging from the sniper you held, I am guessing you were the one that shot the last bandit?" He asked, just to make sure, and so he could report his findings properly. The information matters, afterall.

"You are certainly correct, Mr. Granger. And ah, you must be on your way back to your headquarters? We'd take care of the rest." The lady gently gave him a pat onto his arm, as he couldn't with the brass, pointy shoulder guard on its way.

The marksman took this as a cue to leave, his footsteps on the way towards headquarters, not far off from the distance.

Upon reaching the said establishment, he finds himself sitting upon the couch, with the head of the West association just across him. Of course, to no surprise, he only explained what happened inside in detail, since news got to them that he had raided the den.

"That was rather, reckless, Granger." The man spoke with a voice so croaky as his fingers pats onto his desk, eyeing the marksman with a piercing stare. Granger didn't really care much of the remark, moreover, it is agreeable that what he did was reckless-- just barging into the den without a plan, when a few days ago they were discussing their plots in the tavern. Efforts wasted, in that aspect. What more if he lost his life? Granger doesn t have any idea how much his skills are treasured by the head himself.

"Yes, sir. It is very well understood. In my case, I do not fear death, as I am its embodiment already." The marksman protested, the pride of his guilt much stronger that he could not bare seeing a woman die in front of him. He was in a totally different headspace. His brain could only say the word 'save', as it echoed at the back of his mind.

"...what matters now is not the inner mind, sir. The assassin, that goes by the name Gusion, I assume you know him, and the woman who seems to be his associate as well?"

The head leaned back against his chair, a hand flying onto his chin as he caressed his stubble. "Yes, Gusion Paxley, the fourth son of the Paxley House? I am affiliated. What I did not know is that he had a female accomplice with him."

"A woman with long, rose-colored hair braided to finest. She uses the sniper. I assume she was the one who targeted the last bandit. The assassin from the Paxley House took the woman to safety, before I proceeded to report my findings." Granger explained with a plain look, before he slowly stood up from the chair, after spilling what he had to tell.

The head did so as well, and with a small grin he remarked. "That may have been reckless, but that was brave of you, to say the least. No casualties lost. Good work, Granger." The compliment passed through his ear, them towards the other. The head is satisfied, he could tell, yet he is amidst the battle of his ownself, the hindrance to believe these compliments.

The marksman bowed down in response, and when he was about to turn towards the door to exit, he spots a familiar blonde on the corner of his eye, tuning in to their conversation. He meets the swordsman's gaze, Alucard grinning lopsidedly after hearing the news.