I'm sure you'll be plenty amused when I gently send up steam all through Mass.

[ mildly. look, he burns from anderson's blood, he's probably going to burn in church. but he's lighthearted about it, which is charming, and fine.

and honestly, the thought of anderson being that person has haunted him for decades. how different things would have been, if he'd gladly fallen as a man. ]

You were just born several centuries too late.

[ soft. he returns the kiss, pressing into it in a way that's almost fervent, aching. probably worrying, from an unbiased standpoint, but he's certainly not in a position at the moment to judge himself craving the priest's affection.

it's what he says last that draws a faint, keening sound from him: his hand shifts, pressing to anderson's nape, and he just--clutches at him, emotionally bare. he's not crying, not again, but it's close, and he closes his eyes. ]

I'd be a fool to turn you away. I've made plenty of mistakes, but I won't make that one.

[ he smiles then, a little wry, and adds: ]

Will you take my confession, here in the sand? It's been many centuries. There's much to tell, but I'll spare you the details. [ a sigh, but then: ] I would have long ago tried to raze this entire city to the ground heedless of its occupants without a grounding force.

[ a beat. ]

Though now it seems to be doing it to itself, without my help.