AMOS & CIAN -- BUTCHER STREET: 3:10PM.
Cian had seen the priest approach from the corner of his eye, felt his body tense, then forced himself to relax. They went back – so far back, that it was possible Amos Luscini was the person who had known him longest, since long before he could claim a surname of any kind, let alone one as complicated as Wilde. Their paths had diverged early in life, but they had crossed each other once in awhile since, enough that they had to be considered old acquaintances anyway. Not friends, certainly, but then, Cian didn’t have any of those to speak of, and wouldn’t number a man of Faram among his inner circle regardless.
A matter of differing philosophies, one could say.
Still, he stood relaxed by the time he was addressed, and smiled faintly as he said, “Think it’d take the end of the world to bring it down, myself.” He held out a hand for a shake. “Good to see you.” Which it was, in its own odd way. He wasn’t a churchgoer the way Wilde Senior had been, had little use for Faram and the bleeding hearts that proselytized for him, but Amos wasn’t pushy, and knowing him could always come in handy. Hadn’t recently, but life was a long game. “It’s a fu – a mess around here lately.” Church people. “Anyone hurt?” he added, jerking his head towards the shop.