"You have obviously been somewhat deprived in your life, Father Steadfast," Solomon said with a straight face. "There are few things as satisfying as a brand-new, specially-tailored suit. Fortunately, I happen to be friends with the best tailor in Ireland."

Then he smiled, not exactly a predatory smile but an anticipatory one. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. Dexter needs some new suits too. Between the three of us I'm sure we'll be able to convince Sean to let go of Sheila long enough for other presents. Perhaps not a suit, though." This last was said almost idly. "Suits are wasted on youths his age. But at the very least we can show him the pleasures of having tailored clothes."

Erin, he was sure, wouldn't be all that much of a hurdle at all. Paddy seemed to know how to handle his sister, and she seemed like the type who'd rather her son be introduced to some finer things in life as opposed to being encouraged to tear around the district on a motorcycle. It was a balancing act.

His smile didn't exactly widen, but now it was accompanied by a little twinkle of mischief which looked like it didn't appear all that regularly--but had had potential to, once upon a time. Solomon rose. "In the event his mother does object, we'd better hurry, hadn't we?"