"Are you?" Judas replied snarkily, fully prepared to sink deep into his cups after this incident. His hand fucking hurt but he wasn't about to get up and put ice on it when he could be drinking.
He heard nothing these days, no Word from above, no word from any of his fellow apostles, or the angels or saints; only Mary, quite contrary, in anger and pity and love and hate, to remind him and punish him more effectively than anyone else.
"Stay tonight," he said, not begging, but if she was saying she was sorry, perhaps she might.