"They no longer have a confessional here, I'm afraid," Priest said with a sweep of his hand. "But if it's a confession you wish to give, I would be glad to hear yours."
He recognized the man now, having seen him around the Locks in the past, but there was no name to go with the face. Fiddling with his rosary beads where they were attached to his waist by a belt, he offered the other man his hand.
"Come, on your feet, and we will find a place to speak privately. You may call me Priest. What is your name, my son?"