Before taking a shower, before dressing back into his proper robes, before even giving a shit about people's thoughts and feeling about being back at the facility, there was first a Cherry Coke Zero. Spiritual, mindful and holy fulfilment, God could provide. But that wasn't fucking caffeinated.
After the berry juice was completely scrubbed from the edges of his fingernails, his thirst quenched and his proper regalia reassembled, he took a moment to read up on the new additions to the facility and decided that before anything else, he needed to inspect and bless the meditation-room-slash-chapel. He wasn't expecting much, when he arrived, which was all well and good because it meant he wasn't disappointed by the nothing he stumbled upon. With all the talent these scientists seemed to have when it came to rebuilding worlds and restructuring their lives, they could have provided them all with Solomon's temple. But a rickety, half-built sauna-looking room would have to do. He didn't feel God's presence in this place. But then, he didn't feel it anywhere. Not anymore.
He sighed, when his eyes fell on the rounded shoulders of the Truly Desperate, sitting on one of the best pew-ish benches and thumbing through -- the sound cigarette paper thin pages giving it away -- the Bible. Pius touched his bottom lip with his thumbnail, pinching it slightly with his finger as he walked towards what a Protestant might consider a pulpit, at the front of the rows. He folded his arms across the top of the wooden stand, but continued to inspect his nails without glancing at the other man in the chapel.