The gold was—interesting. He’d seen Josh shift a few times, and under the circumstances he’d never been paying much attention to his eyes. He nodded, “Honestly—it’s the part of yourself that you can’t hide.” Aidan had never been terribly poetic. He was a soldier, and occasionally a care-taker, but he had never been artistic. “It was fucked up. The whole point of a priest in a hospital is to see—those people who believe in that sort of salvation but who have already given up, or nearly given up, and he just exploited it. It was all a numbers game, courting favor in the family I was from.” He shook his head, holding his hands out palm-up like he was dismissing it, but it was pretty clear it had bothered him.