Patrick hadn't woken on Sunday with a hangover simply because he had fallen asleep before he could drink more than one beer.
God had been merciful.
Upon waking, Patrick filled his empty stomach by eating bread from the bag, since fixing something was not really very likely when the only ingredients you had were bread and yet more bread. He didn't even have butter. He would need to go shopping after mass. Especially since he needed more beer. He was nearly out. And that was one thing he would never run out of. He needed his alcohol.
Still slightly hungry while feeling guilty for not observing a Sunday morning fast at the same time, Patrick dressed quickly for mass at the cathedral that bore his name. Sitting there in a church with his name filled with people praying to God always gave him an incredible boost of energy. Sometimes it even took away the need to drink all the time. Sometimes on Sunday nights, he went to bed sober.
Before mass he took Downpatrick for a quick walk outside and then he kissed the dog before taking leave of him. The cathedral wasn't necessarily close to home and so Patrick took the subway, emerging in plenty of time to wander slowly, which he did. When he cathedral came into view, he smiled. There it was. Proof that the work he had done centuries ago had been worth it. Irish people had come to America and carried the religion he had brought to them along too, and this church was testament to that.
Patrick moved inside and he sat down near the front, ready to give his thanks to God while feeling terribly guilty for the life he lived which was business as normal. And then Patrick felt a very abnormal thing. At least it was abnormal for mass so early in the morning.
An immortal was here. He could feel it deep inside. Someone like him was here and they were behind him and off to the side.
Fully expecting to see George or Sebastian, Patrick turned around and he searched the small gathering of people there for a familiar face. The face his gaze fell on was indeed familiar, though not who he expected at all.
"De...Dewi. Oh my stars and garters!" Patrick whispered to himself. He rose from the pew and walked as quickly as was proper towards his brother because the house of God wasn't exactly the place to leap on him and shout with joy like he wanted to. Instead he moved until he was beside David and then he elbowed the other saint in the ribs. "Dewi!" he said happily. "What are you doing here!?"