Although it sometimes seemed that way from the point of view of the clerk's dwindling patience, Balyn was not the only person who took jobs arranged through the Yharnam Employment Agency. Indeed, in addition to the hundreds who had found permanent positions through the service, there were dozens of temporary workers busy throughout the greater Yharnam metropolitan area. Rebuilding civilization, it turned out, took a lot of work.

Thus, Balyn did not have to drink alone down at the Leprous Hound, his favorite Yharnam bar (largely preserving that status because the bartender found foreigners weird in the "their strange customs are entertaining" way instead of the "lock them outside with the werewolves" way, a cogent example of how prejudice was not a mere yes-or-no question), but could rather hoist a glass in commiseration with his fellow temps.

"So when we finally found the shipment of guns, we found it had been one of the rat gangs in the old aqueduct that had run off with the crate."

"Rats?" asked Gareth, who was currently occupying the next bar stool over. "Why would they take a crate of guns?"

"You're right; they definitely prefer their throwing knives. But the way I hear it, this bunch was moving in on pig turf in the sewers, and you can't parry a boar with a throwing knife."

Gareth looked at Balyn, then down to Balyn's glass of rum, then back up at the ex-hunter again.

"Huh. I always thought we Yarnamites liked our blood cocktails for the flavor. I didn't realize that we were cutting the alcohol with blood to prevent the hallucinations."

Balyn didn't hold it against him. He had trouble himself, sometimes, telling eldritch insights from run-of-the-mill nonsense. Gareth probably wouldn't believe him about the talking doll, either.

"The point is, we got all but two of the guns back and the client was happy to retrieve most of the merchandise. The clerk at the agency even smiled when we reported in!"

"Now I know you're seeing things."

"Would you believe 'didn't glare at me'?"

"Maybe, if I had another drink. Though I should probably take it easy on the booze."

"Got a job tomorrow?"

"Nah, just need to be careful with my money."

"I know what you mean. Too bad you're not good with music."

"Music? Ohh, that Healing Church job. Yeah, that one pays something like triple the rate." Gareth paused to scratch his beard. "I wonder why? Surely musicians aren't that rare. Though artistic types do usually have it harder on the night of the hunt, and that Red Moon was a doozy. Were you around for that?" He tossed back the last of his cocktail.

"Yeah, but I dreamed through the whole thing," Balyn said. "Anyway, do you know what they need a musician for? The clerk didn't even bother reading the rest of the listing to me."

Gareth nodded sagely.

"She must have heard you trying to sing."

"Ouch."

"Anyway, they're looking for someone who can write new arrangements for their sacred hymns, and they're willing to pay extra. Maybe it's just that they need it done fast?"

"New arrangements?" Balyn was confused for a moment, but then memories slotted into place. "Oh, I get it."

"You do?"

"Sure. You'd expect that those blue guys with the tentacles would be the opposite of beasts, right, like they were on the opposite end of some kind of spectrum? But no, actually that icky squelching noise they make is really low-pitched, just like a beast's growl."

"I know you used to be a hunter, so I'll allow you actually do know what beasts and weirder things sound like. But what's that got to do with the Church hiring an arranger?"

"Don't you get it? They need to rewrite their sacred music because ever since the Red Moon, they've got a Choir full of nothing but baritones."