She returns and lifts the lid several long minutes later. “So I just lied to men with badges on the threshold of my church.” Her voice is hard.
“I’m sorry. Is that a problem for you?”
“God knows I’ve seen enough to be wary of the NYPD, but…I don’t like lying. Ninth commandment and all that.”
“Did they believe you?”
“I think so. They left.”
He bows his head, listens for the men’s conversation. They’ve started down the street. “Good. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I don’t suppose that getting the hell out of here and letting me forget about this is an option?”
“I’ll go if you want me to, but… I’m sorry to put you in danger, but they’ll still be out there looking for me, and I don’t think I can evade them yet. My ankle.”
“So what do we do now?”
He lifts he shoulders guiltily. “We wait? You can just leave me. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll just slip out –”
She huffs out an incredulous breath. “Leave you? Mister, I might have saved your sketchy ass, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“So…we wait. Together.” The moment stretches out into awkward, burning silence. “Is there…is there any chance you have an ice pack around here?”
“Great.” She takes a steadying breath. “Well, as long as I’m breaking every other rule…do you think you can manage stairs if I support you? You can come upstairs to my rectory and I’ll RICE that leg for you. We’ll just have to figure out how to sneak you out without my congregants seeing. Though I’d almost pay to see their faces if they saw our local demonic terrorist exiting my rooms, provided you don’t murder me in my sleep.”
He starts at that. “Your congregants –”
“What, don’t tell me you didn’t notice! Did you think I was playing dress-up?” She snorts incredulously and taps on something at her neck. And then another piece of the puzzle snaps into place – the rasp of fabric just beneath her chin that signals a priest’s collar. He should have sensed it from the start, but all the signs screaming “woman” had drowned out that whisper of stiff plastic at her throat.
“I’m so sorry, uh, Reverend. I guess I was distracted.” He feels like shit for ignoring all the evidence, for insulting her – but also for the sudden guilty rush of interest that sweeps over him. He’s never really known a female priest (pastor? minister?), let alone one who’s young, and brave, and gifted with such a lovely, low voice. “That’s no excuse, but –”
“Please, if I were that easy to offend, I would’ve needed to find a different job ages ago. Just, try not to get too weird about it, yeah?” He stammers his assent. “So let’s back up. Introductions. I’m Claire, Rev. Claire if you prefer, the rector here at St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church. And you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Something like that.”
“No name, of course. Not with that mask.”
“Sorry.”
“And you’re what, Catholic?”
“The less you know about me, the better.”
She snorts. “Don’t even try that on me, mister. You literally flung yourself through a stained glass window while screaming sanctuary. Who else would have such a flair for the dramatic?”
He ducks his head and shoots her a coy smile; her heartbeat quickens. “I can neither confirm nor deny your hypothesis.”
“So the devil is Catholic! My Lutheran colleagues would eat that right up.”
“Oh no, my priest would kill me.”
“Yeah, yeah, your secret’s safe with me. Okay, you ready to get thee beside me, Satan? Let’s move. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she grabs his waist, and they begin the ungainly ascent to her apartment. His face is close, so close to her neck, and her long hair is fragrant with incense.
Re: FILL 1b/?: Matt/Claire - Claire is a pastor
“I’m sorry. Is that a problem for you?”
“God knows I’ve seen enough to be wary of the NYPD, but…I don’t like lying. Ninth commandment and all that.”
“Did they believe you?”
“I think so. They left.”
He bows his head, listens for the men’s conversation. They’ve started down the street. “Good. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I don’t suppose that getting the hell out of here and letting me forget about this is an option?”
“I’ll go if you want me to, but… I’m sorry to put you in danger, but they’ll still be out there looking for me, and I don’t think I can evade them yet. My ankle.”
“So what do we do now?”
He lifts he shoulders guiltily. “We wait? You can just leave me. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll just slip out –”
She huffs out an incredulous breath. “Leave you? Mister, I might have saved your sketchy ass, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“So…we wait. Together.” The moment stretches out into awkward, burning silence. “Is there…is there any chance you have an ice pack around here?”
“Great.” She takes a steadying breath. “Well, as long as I’m breaking every other rule…do you think you can manage stairs if I support you? You can come upstairs to my rectory and I’ll RICE that leg for you. We’ll just have to figure out how to sneak you out without my congregants seeing. Though I’d almost pay to see their faces if they saw our local demonic terrorist exiting my rooms, provided you don’t murder me in my sleep.”
He starts at that. “Your congregants –”
“What, don’t tell me you didn’t notice! Did you think I was playing dress-up?” She snorts incredulously and taps on something at her neck. And then another piece of the puzzle snaps into place – the rasp of fabric just beneath her chin that signals a priest’s collar. He should have sensed it from the start, but all the signs screaming “woman” had drowned out that whisper of stiff plastic at her throat.
“I’m so sorry, uh, Reverend. I guess I was distracted.” He feels like shit for ignoring all the evidence, for insulting her – but also for the sudden guilty rush of interest that sweeps over him. He’s never really known a female priest (pastor? minister?), let alone one who’s young, and brave, and gifted with such a lovely, low voice. “That’s no excuse, but –”
“Please, if I were that easy to offend, I would’ve needed to find a different job ages ago. Just, try not to get too weird about it, yeah?” He stammers his assent. “So let’s back up. Introductions. I’m Claire, Rev. Claire if you prefer, the rector here at St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church. And you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Something like that.”
“No name, of course. Not with that mask.”
“Sorry.”
“And you’re what, Catholic?”
“The less you know about me, the better.”
She snorts. “Don’t even try that on me, mister. You literally flung yourself through a stained glass window while screaming sanctuary. Who else would have such a flair for the dramatic?”
He ducks his head and shoots her a coy smile; her heartbeat quickens. “I can neither confirm nor deny your hypothesis.”
“So the devil is Catholic! My Lutheran colleagues would eat that right up.”
“Oh no, my priest would kill me.”
“Yeah, yeah, your secret’s safe with me. Okay, you ready to get thee beside me, Satan? Let’s move. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she grabs his waist, and they begin the ungainly ascent to her apartment. His face is close, so close to her neck, and her long hair is fragrant with incense.