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With Quasimodo put to sleep as per usual, Judge Frollo makes his way out of the Cathedral, prepared to make his usual rounds. He sits himself upon his horse, running his fingers through the mare's well-groomed mane before prompting her to move. She does so quickly, well-practised by now after years of serving him.
He simply has to do his rounds as usual and then return to the Cathedral to sleep himself. If his efforts have been successful, it should be rather quick. His horse's hooves *click* against the worn cobblestone streets and he holds himself a little higher. People would not dare to disregard the law in his presence. If they do, they are foolish. As it is, it seems everyone has taken themselves into their homes for the night, protected from the chill of the night air.
He continues down his usual path until he notes something odd. Usually, people don't pass down this particular path, and now that he focuses on the figure, he doesn't particularly recognise them, either. With a stiff tug, he redirects his mare towards the figure. "You there," Judge Frollo demands, an eyebrow raised promptingly. "Your name?"
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