Re: rory & clementine ; tour
"It'll be an unfortunate religion that outlaws drinking." As if to cement the point, Rory reached into the interior pocket of his dark suit jacket. From inside, he produced a silver flask, liquid sloshed within. His whole life he'd been Catholic enough not to find sin in the drink, and now? Well, now it hardly seemed to matter either way. He twisted the silver glinting cap loose, and when Clementine asked if he was always polite, his rotblack eyes swam up to look at her.
"Not always."
Naturally, he followed the girl when she hopped down from her throne of sentiment-carved stone. She sang, and he drank rye from the tarnished silver in his hands. The other church was coming into view now. This one seemed modest by comparison, holy white with no gawking saints in the windows. He figured that this was the kind of church that his tour guide had grown up around. It seemed ill-fitting for her with her blasphemy, but he idly supposed that she'd looked the good part in her share of Sunday dresses.
"Selfish? That'd be the natural state of things, the natural state of people."