He made his way to the small, open kitchen, pulling down a second wine glass with one hand and clicking off the boiling water with the other. She needed wine, he definitely thought so.
He brought the two glasses over, once they'd been filled and handed her one, sitting in a chair just next to her and offering her what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I'm glad you felt like you could come see me. I know that you probably haven't had the best of luck with Christian beings or their followers, but I think people sometimes forget that the word of man is biased and rarely is one chosen to receive His true words. Not even I have clear answers on the subject. I have faith, and I have enough love not to condemn. It is, after all, not my position to judge. Even if I were not likewise inclined I would do what I could to help you through this. But, since I am the only saint inclined in this direction," he said with the slightest hesitance, like he didn't actually like admitting that, "I feel I can maybe help you a little better."
He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his wine before setting it down on the table in front of him. "Tell me what's wrong, take as much time as you need."