This was just too perfect. Apart from the small fact of Billy-Ray's injury - which tugged and pained him even at the best of times, even now - it was perfect. If he lunged, channeled all of his energy into his magic, figured on not being able to burrow at all for the next month... and miraculously dodged a bullet, of course. There was still that. Pleasant needed to be distracted somehow.
"Well, there's us," Billy-Ray answered with an offhanded shrug. "No. Scratch that. There's you. I don't use guns. Too impersonal."
Talking wasn't enough, but it would have to do until Billy-Ray came up with something a bit more plausible. How did good guys do this? Seriously. Sometimes, it seemed like their timing was so ridiculously and coincidentally spot-on that they just wished for backup or a distraction or more bullets, and it happened. If Billy-Ray didn't know any better, he would say it was like magic. How come it didn't work like that for him?
~~
This was much more in Father O'Reilly's area of expertise, and despite his best efforts, it showed. The relief was especially evident in his eyes when he turned to smile at Solomon. "That," he said, "is the least of our concerns, I think. Let me help you remember." He reached out to take the former Necromancer's hand. "How much of the Lord's Prayer do you remember?"
Not much offhand, as it turned out, although Solomon did join in about halfway through. It made the priest smile as he spoke out loud, and even more grateful that when Solomon had arrived at the church in such a delicate state, Father O'Reilly had been there to meet him. If Solomon had found the church empty, or gone somewhere else... Father O'Reilly shuddered to think. He gave thanks to Saint Gabriel for that turn of events, first and foremost. The Lord worked in mysterious ways; it was a phrase Father O'Reilly tried to use often, rather than just in times of crisis and doubt. Because it really was true. And this was a perfect example.
Solomon didn't try to add anything, but that wasn't surprising. With how long it must have been since he was last in a church, let alone praying... Father O'Reilly wasn't going to try and force it. Instead, he spoke for both of them, skimming as briefly as possible around the topic of Necromancy and treating it as more of a state of being than a... form of magic. For his own sanity, really.
He prayed for strength, like he'd suggested. Strength for Solomon, obviously, but also for himself in equal measure. He suspected he would need it before too long, if this wasn't yet over.
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"Well, there's us," Billy-Ray answered with an offhanded shrug. "No. Scratch that. There's you. I don't use guns. Too impersonal."
Talking wasn't enough, but it would have to do until Billy-Ray came up with something a bit more plausible. How did good guys do this? Seriously. Sometimes, it seemed like their timing was so ridiculously and coincidentally spot-on that they just wished for backup or a distraction or more bullets, and it happened. If Billy-Ray didn't know any better, he would say it was like magic. How come it didn't work like that for him?
~~
This was much more in Father O'Reilly's area of expertise, and despite his best efforts, it showed. The relief was especially evident in his eyes when he turned to smile at Solomon. "That," he said, "is the least of our concerns, I think. Let me help you remember." He reached out to take the former Necromancer's hand. "How much of the Lord's Prayer do you remember?"
Not much offhand, as it turned out, although Solomon did join in about halfway through. It made the priest smile as he spoke out loud, and even more grateful that when Solomon had arrived at the church in such a delicate state, Father O'Reilly had been there to meet him. If Solomon had found the church empty, or gone somewhere else... Father O'Reilly shuddered to think. He gave thanks to Saint Gabriel for that turn of events, first and foremost. The Lord worked in mysterious ways; it was a phrase Father O'Reilly tried to use often, rather than just in times of crisis and doubt. Because it really was true. And this was a perfect example.
Solomon didn't try to add anything, but that wasn't surprising. With how long it must have been since he was last in a church, let alone praying... Father O'Reilly wasn't going to try and force it. Instead, he spoke for both of them, skimming as briefly as possible around the topic of Necromancy and treating it as more of a state of being than a... form of magic. For his own sanity, really.
He prayed for strength, like he'd suggested. Strength for Solomon, obviously, but also for himself in equal measure. He suspected he would need it before too long, if this wasn't yet over.
"Anything I've missed?" he asked Solomon at last.