"Its beautiful," Cathal nodded with a smile. "Very green, very lush, very romanticized in my memory already." Ireland had become a distant beautiful place of magic over the last eight years, and every time someone asked him about it, Cathal felt like he embellished it a bit more. "When I was little there was a lot of division among the people- you've heard of The Troubles? Lots of people fighting over which religion was right and which was wrong, and a little of that still lingers." Which was all so foolish, when the truth was that all of the religions were just as wrong as they were right. What a thing to be killing each other other.
But the subject made him remember something he'd wanted to ask Marcie. "I noticed somethin' about you," he said with a slightly furrowed brow of interest. "You say 'oh my gods', plural. You don't come across that much around here."