The Undertaker ducked back into the shadows and emerged beside the hunter. He was quite used to sneaking up on people. They always had the most delightful reactions.

"I see," he assured, giving Gaston's muscular bicep a reassuring pat with his blood-smeared hand even while his other held a tailor's tape to his shoulder, measuring his height. "You'll need a custom-fit coffin, when the time comes." Something in the nonchalance of his lilting voice suggests the Undertaker doesn't figure it will take long.

"I can put antlers on it, if you like." The silver-haired man was making an educated guess on the 'Master Hunter's' preferred means of decoration.