"You're specifically recommending me for this?"
To anyone who knew Balyn's history with the Yharnam Employment Agency, the former Hunter's confusion would have seemed very reasonable. Phrases like "What did you break this time?" or "The client has filed a complaint" or even "You again?" were typical of the tall, pale blonde clerk's interactions with him. The idea that she would have taken a specific job request and concluded that Balyn was the perfect person to do the work exactly how the client needed it done was so unexpected as to be bewildering. He'd come face-to-face with eldritch deities that tore apart the very fabric of reality and sanity by their mere presence who made more sense.
Doubly so, as the job was not "Volunteers wanted for experimental beasthood treatment study" at the Choir branch of Iosefka's Clinic. That would have made some sense, if nothing else because Celestial Emissaries couldn't talk. Which made them lousy emissaries, but the long-term viability of the project was for the funding committee to tackle, not the clerk's problem.
But it wasn't that. She had genuinely, truly looked over a job listing and said to herself, "Balyn is the perfect man for the job" without even a hint of irony. And then repeated the statement to Balyn's face when he reported in!
Balyn paused to check the sky. Given the size of the pigs he'd encountered around Yharnam, he really didn't want any of them to be airborne.
"Yes, yes I am," the clerk said, apparently unperturbed by his reactions. "I believe that given your listed skills and your history with this agency, that you are eminently suited to fulfill this request. Or do you mean to tell me that you came here tonight to have me remove your name from our active lists?"
It felt cruel to snatch the hope from an innocent maiden and dim the light in her eyes, but it had to be done.
"No, no, that's not it."
"Oh."
"So, go ahead and tell me about the job," he rushed to say. "I'm sure it'll be perfect if you picked it out."
"I see. Well, then, this request came from the Bloody Blessing in the Cathedral Ward. Are you familiar with it?"
"That nightclub they made out of the houses on the terrace below the Grand Cathedral? Nah, I could never afford it. Though I hear they really cleaned up the neighborhood; there used to be a lot of kidnappings around there from what I understand. I guess they still need bouncers, though?" He figured that drunken lounge lizards were only slightly more difficult to handle than scourge beasts.
"Bouncers?" She shook her head. "No, no, that's not it at all. One of the artists from the floor show is out sick, some sort of eye condition, and they need a fill-in. The manager particularly specified that she'd been required to let the club owner's new girlfriend have the headliner spot, so she wanted a substitute comedian whose jokes were bad enough that even the mistress's singing would be a relief by comparison."