"Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire?"
"Well, that was just rude!" Balyn huffed. His burst of anger visibly surprised the Doll; her head jerked backwards and her eyes seemed to widen, even though he wasn't actually sure if she possessed eyelids.
"Excuse me?"
"What? Oh, oh no, not you!" Balyn waved his hands frantically as if physically shooing away the misapprehension. "It was that old lady at Oedon Chapel."
The Doll resumed her ordinary, composed posture.
"I see. And she was impolite?"
"I'll say. I mean, entirely leaving aside the fact that I found her in a tiny home with a pack of rabid dogs barking right outside her door and helped her get safely to Oedon Chapel, that's just part of my work as a hunter and I don't need thanks or recompense for that. Even though a little gratitude might be nice," he added, grumbling under his breath.
"Entirely leaving that aside," the Doll noted.
"Right! But you know what she said to me?"
She hesitated for a moment. Even a living simulacrum animated by eldritch power knew there were things it was wiser not to know. But she was the caretaker of the dreaming hunters and she did not hide from her professional responsibilities.
"…What?"
Balyn screwed his expression into as close as he could to that of a cantankerous old woman and did his best imitation of her voice as he could manage.
"'You! Stay away from me! I know all your tricks!' Now I ask you, is that fair?"
"Well, there is—" the Doll began, but it seemed that Balyn's question had been rhetorical, because he went right on talking without pause.
"I mean, okay, sure, I probably did that one routine where I control a card to the top of the pack and use a double-lift to conceal it one too many times, and really I shouldn't repeat a trick at all, but I know she hasn't seen my coins-and-cylinder routine yet! I haven't even showed that one to you!"