Re: Sunday Service: Mercy/Shiloh
And oh, if only the good Father knew just how very right he was in his assessment. Mercy was a coyote who had grown up in a wolf pack, not so much raised as tolerated (and then only barely by most). Rez life had been insular and owed much to the small-town, conservative mentality, and Mercy did not meet approval as a rebellious, smartass little shit who constantly flouted authority. The only thing about him that had ever been “right” was the colour of his skin, and that was obviously erased as soon as the Alpha had sent him away, back to the extremely white Repose to live with his real mother.
Mercy, he was a man who’d long lived his life out of place.
“Likewise,” he nodded, polite without fawning or prostrating like the rest of the flock and offering it along with the casual ease of his smile. He watched the pastor’s gaze linger on his cigarette, thought against the offer that was at the tip of his tongue because he could still hear the occasional muffled thunk of car doors shutting. “Short for Mercedes. Which do you think would make the more reasonable request in this scenario?” The car, or the concept. Mercy’s dark eyes twinkled with amusement.
As for Father Browning’s predecessor, that was not something to which the man could speak with any confidence. He’d only attended a few services since he’d returned to town from the Capital to take over the garage, and running a business where one was the sole employee meant a lot of seven day work weeks, if you wanted to break even. (Yeah, maybe the garage had been paid off since the holidays, but old habits, man.)
“Wish I could help,” he said with a head shake, pinching the cigarette between thumb and forefinger so that he could ash onto the paved driveway and scrape it away with the sole of his shoe. “Because that sounds like a hell of a juicy story. But I don’t make it as often as I’d like, Father.” He said this last with a weight that sounded like regret, but could just as easily have been irony. His eyebrows lifted slightly and there was a sly sort of hook to his smile. “I’ll have to track down somebody’s auntie so I can get you filled in on the dirt.”