"No." With a sigh Solomon rested his elbows on the desk so he could massage his temples. Then he changed his mind. "Yes. Tea, please. Holy water." It did tend to help his headaches. They weren't as bad as they used to be, but he did still get regular low-level aches. He usually carried water for himself, but if he was going to be in a priest's house, why not?

Usually it happened when he was waiting something, close-by, which was defined by mixed feelings. Paddy qualified.

Paddy was being extremely annoying in the way Solomon had always thought priests were, except without being condescending about it. He was just so calm and unjudgemental. It was the way Gabe was annoying: by letting his subject's guilt work for him. Damn them both, anyway.

"You must," he said, but now he sounded tired. "Or else you wouldn't be talking unironically about me having a congregation or being a prophet, and have done so without even being surprised. Neither of which I have any interest in, by the way. Protection, fine. I won't even be the only one sanctioning that. But preaching?"

He shook his head. "Necromancers only work together when they have to. I appreciate your faith in me, I suppose, but you're wrong. Politics is something I know, but I can't lead any kind of church."