"The foghunters' guild." Jim nods. "I've heard of you guys, and some of your exploits. I'm in another guild, the Guild of Preternatural Horrors. Well, on a consulting basis. I do crisis management for them when I'm needed."

And he kind of quietly creeps around the city doing his own thing--but dutifully reporting on it to the guild's matriarchs--when he's not needed. There's still a small part of him that won't let go of the idea of finding a way out, a way home.

A way back to his ship, his crew, his best friend.

"It was about the closest thing I could find, quickly, to match my skill set. But I enjoy it. What about you, do you like what you do?"