Jerking a drooping sleeve away from the fingers of one hand Jez pointedly reaches behind them both to brush his hand softly against the door at their backs: touch wood, as the old apotropaic magics dictated. He's seen the devastation wrecked upon the more unlucky - and less hardy - members of Archie and his brother's unofficial little tribe...

Still, Jeremiah isn't the kind to waste too much time worrying about things that might happen, but equally might not. Another suck on the smoke, then a brief raise of the eyebrows as he asks, "Who chase you? The filth?"