"We'll check them out, yeah." The paintings were amateurish and ugly, some sub-Thomas Kinkade business, but the key had to be here somewhere. "And, well, I know a lot of funny priests, but it's different in a religious order like mine. The culture there is pretty liberal—my community runs yoga classes and meditation walks, it's very crunchy granola. And because of the way the discipline structure works, I have more freedom than a parish priest would, so a flippant remark about Banksy isn't going to ruin my life. Besides, you don't want to see the side of me that has really detailed and intense opinions about Trinitarian heresies, right? It exists, I'm just protecting you from it."
It was hard to see any irony in the paintings, but the gallery itself had to be some kind of joke on the mansion's subjects. Still, they were so close to their goal that it was hard to be too annoyed. For now. "The Grey Nuns used to have a grey habit, yup. When they got started in Montreal, people made fun of them and called them les grises, which means 'grey women' but it was also slang for like, lady drunks, because—hey, check it out."
He stopped his rambling about the Grey Nuns because they'd come to a painting whose title was (according to the little white card), Salvation. It depicted a cardinal carrying a baby hedgehog across a raging river, and it was hideous. "Looks like we found salvation."