"Tell me then, priest," Jaq uttered the word like a swear, spat it out as if it had rotted on his tongue before he could get it out. "How he chooses? When he casts his eyes over his people, does he not choose who he saves? Then tell me when he sees an honest woman with child, why does he take her in labour?" Piety, faith... They were things that Jaq had never understood. From even a young age, he had seen the rewards of the pious, gifts only attainable after death that hung on the grasping belief their texts were true. When he turned to science, he drifted further still from the path of God unable to reconcile his miracles when mankind was able to perform their own, and with their two own hands.
Jaq laughed at Zane's refusal, having anticipated it though he had hoped it would be an easier victory. Zane was stubborn and Jaq had always liked that about him, though it had made it increasingly difficult to manage. There was a humanity in him that left Jaq feeling conflicted. He was fascinated and frustrated by it, how like a weed it continued to thrive even when pulled and torn and pressured. "How old is she," Jaq questioned, leaning in and invading more of Zane's space. His voice was cool, but his grip was unyielding. "Is she yours?"
The question was leading, invasive, suggestive. Teaching the childe of another was arduous and had been a task that Jaq had very rarely taken on, though he would not have been surprised to known Zane had resolved to help one. What would have surprised and intrigued him was if she was his own and he waited, impatiently, for an answer.