Morningside Cuesta Ghosts make me twitchy

Pygmalion hadn't liked that Bhediya had gone all this way on her own, so he trailed her per usual, making sure she was all right. Everything seemed fine until this moment. The conversation itself was strange (from what he heard of it) but even more noteworthy was the putrid scent coming off the man's coat in waves, like heat haze, on the breeze.

Sickness.

Bhediya, he barked, coming toward them at a quick walk, his shoulders stiff and squared. He's sick. Ye dinna ken what he might do—he's no in his right mind. He snapped his dark eyes to the stranger, sizing him up. A formidable fighter at full strength, perhaps, but even in his weakened state, he could do damage to Bhediya.