"Oh, not much to tell, really. They hang about standing stones and do....witchy things. Cast spells and whatnot." Arthur shrugs. He'd never paid that much attention, just heard all the stories.

And seen their special sacrifice box. He'd tried putting something in it, once, but nothing had happened. Probably because he wasn't a witch.

He looks at his line mate thoughtfully a moment, considering. There is the chance he's having his leg pulled. There are plenty who would think that a right proper joke.

But free food. In more than a tiny cupful, and immediately. To a man used to living off of garbage scraps and bread that was mostly sawdust, it is immensely appealing. Besides, he can run fast. He outran every bobby, Headboy, plaguee, and angry mob in Wellington Wells. He can do the same here, if he has to.

"Alright then. But if I'm beaten to death by an angry mob, I intend to do my best to haunt you. And I would be a very annoying ghost."

Mild and improbable threat made, Arthur slowly begins ambling towards the front.