"Been ready," Gabe said promptly. "You needa work on your stamina, Billy-Ray." He didn't exactly make his tone sardonic on purpose--it just came out like that. Gabe still found he didn't really care. The roll of smugness and superiority, memories of people Sanguine had killed, was prodding his last nerve.
"Why the Hell is that, anyway," he grumbled, more for something to say. "Someone's gonna come for you sooner or later, Billy-Ray. Someone to stop you killin'. Why tempt 'em?"
Why was he even asking this sociopath to explain himself? His head must hurt.
~~~
Solomon didn't answer that. He didn't really have an answer to that. He just thought of China Sorrows, of the look on her face, in her eyes; of her words and brokenness as she said she had seen Him. And then he looked away. He'd met an Archangel dressed as a cowboy. An Archangel who had refused to smite him. Drawing conclusions was probably unwise, and yet it hadn't occurred to him that, on this fact, anything might be contrary to what he thought he knew.
The tone of O'Reilly's voice made Solomon turn back again in vague surprise. It had been a very long time since that sort of tone, or expression, had been directed at him unironically and without condescension.
Then he blinked, and his brow furrowed, and he wondered how long it had been since he had given a question like that due consideration. Did he want to be forgiven?
It was almost absurd. How could he want to be forgiven when he didn't really even believe? He had no faith with which to request such a thing, even if he thought it would be offered. Which wasn't the point. The question was merely 'did he want it'.
Did he?
Did he want God's forgiveness? The forgiveness of a God he hadn't believed in, still didn't quite believe in, still wasn't sure about?
"I don't want to suffer for all eternity, if that's what you mean," he said at last. "God's forgiveness, as I understand it, is a requirement for not being burdened by such a fate. However ..." He lapsed into silence again, and this time he did look back up at the crucifix, examining Jesus' face and remembered the look of raw anguish upon it in those moments he had seen through to the lifestream. "However," he murmured, "I don't believe it's a thing for which I'm ready, yet."
Not because he felt guilty. Not exactly. More because he felt faithless, and that was of more importance. How could he ask forgiveness of a God for which he had no faith at all? It would be ... disrespectful. And at this point, Solomon had no intention of disrespecting God.
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"Why the Hell is that, anyway," he grumbled, more for something to say. "Someone's gonna come for you sooner or later, Billy-Ray. Someone to stop you killin'. Why tempt 'em?"
Why was he even asking this sociopath to explain himself? His head must hurt.
~~~
Solomon didn't answer that. He didn't really have an answer to that. He just thought of China Sorrows, of the look on her face, in her eyes; of her words and brokenness as she said she had seen Him. And then he looked away. He'd met an Archangel dressed as a cowboy. An Archangel who had refused to smite him. Drawing conclusions was probably unwise, and yet it hadn't occurred to him that, on this fact, anything might be contrary to what he thought he knew.
The tone of O'Reilly's voice made Solomon turn back again in vague surprise. It had been a very long time since that sort of tone, or expression, had been directed at him unironically and without condescension.
Then he blinked, and his brow furrowed, and he wondered how long it had been since he had given a question like that due consideration. Did he want to be forgiven?
It was almost absurd. How could he want to be forgiven when he didn't really even believe? He had no faith with which to request such a thing, even if he thought it would be offered. Which wasn't the point. The question was merely 'did he want it'.
Did he?
Did he want God's forgiveness? The forgiveness of a God he hadn't believed in, still didn't quite believe in, still wasn't sure about?
"I don't want to suffer for all eternity, if that's what you mean," he said at last. "God's forgiveness, as I understand it, is a requirement for not being burdened by such a fate. However ..." He lapsed into silence again, and this time he did look back up at the crucifix, examining Jesus' face and remembered the look of raw anguish upon it in those moments he had seen through to the lifestream. "However," he murmured, "I don't believe it's a thing for which I'm ready, yet."
Not because he felt guilty. Not exactly. More because he felt faithless, and that was of more importance. How could he ask forgiveness of a God for which he had no faith at all? It would be ... disrespectful. And at this point, Solomon had no intention of disrespecting God.