[for Marcus]

[fifthbeatle]

When Vanya was invited to play the theatre gala, she was thrilled. It offered substantial pay for a featured musicians and - what do you know - they need an experienced violinist. The audition pieces are complicated, but what violinist worth their salt can't play "The Devil Went Down to Georgia?"

By the time she found out the gig included glad-handing donors, it was too late to say no.

She considered more extreme measures of terminating her contract. Perhaps she could hide herself in green room trash. She'd have to wait until she was emptied into the dumpster to escape, but she thinks she can wait it out. Maybe she'll bring a book.

Her attitude changes when they mention in the final rehearsal that the dress code for men and women is the same. This is the best news Vanya's heard since the world didn't end on Valentine's.

So, Vanya gets a suit that very much on purpose does not resemble any suit she might have had in the past. The first time she tries it on, she finds she's smiling like a silly goon in the mirror.

It's been more than 6 months that she's been off those pills, now; she has her family and a fresh start. A whole range of feelings exist between anxious and resigned, and she has a ton of support when any of that gets to be too much.

Does that mean that she's feeling herself? Hell yeah.

The performance goes well, it seems. She hit all the right notes, she had a fucking blast with the double-stop harmonics and people were generally very kind. Of course they are. Very few people tend to tell others they suck to their faces right after a performance. A benefit, especially.

There's an elementary school principal chasing her down to try and make her into the entire music department and she's not about to do it. Vanya managed to dodge her once with a lucky swoop by a local radio DJ whose hand was way too low on her back.

It's possible she broke his champagne flute using mic feedback from the podium, but maybe he was just unlucky.

This second dodge gets intercepted. The woman catches her from across the room and powerwalks toward her. Vanya considers the garbage escape again, but she can't do that to this suit: one of the first really nice things she's ever owned. She's going to spiral. This woman is going to ask her to take a job she doesn't want and Vanya's going to say yes because she won't be able to help herself. Then she'll die slowly from the inside until she loses control of her powers and levels the city. She shuffles around a bit...

And she sees a man standing at a table, close enough that maybe she can arguably say she was engaged in a conversation. They happen to meet eyes at the same time. A few synapses fire.

"Excuse me," she says, eyes a little wider than the average person at rest. "You don't happen to have a cigarette, do you?"

Comments

[pushbackthedarkness]

Marcus has always been of the mind that the arts and culture scene of every city needs to be supported and while he mostly tends to offer that support through a more underground rock scene than something of this nature, he had been convinced by Robin Cressida -- his new boss, he reminds himself -- that he might be able to make a few connections here. Connections that would be good for the Home.

Marcus had asked her if she was certain he was the one she wanted to send, as he's never been particularly known for his tact or his pleasant small talk. With a smile, she'd assured him she was certain he would use his charm to their benefit. In return, he had asked if she wanted him to wear his cassock and collar.

He hadn't, of course, as he's no longer a priest. The suit is one he purchased years ago for one party or another and while it barely gets worn these days, at least he's kept it, as it's necessary now. And the night itself really is wonderful, especially the musical performances. Marcus loves live music, finds himself lost it in, no matter what style, and tonight is no different. It's just the aftermath he finds uncomfortable. So many people with so many masks, pretending to be kinder than they are, pretending to be different, all because they're told they must.

But then someone speaks to him and he turns to find the tiny violinist, her expression a little nervous, and he's charmed by her almost immediately.

"I do," he answers. "But are you asking because you actually smoke or because you're looking for an out to all this schmoozing? If it's the latter, I think we might both be in need of a smoke break."

[fifthbeatle]

Vanya's not proud of this weak out she's taking. This is a chance to exercise some self-respect. Instead, her instinct was to lie, and to roll someone else up in the bullshit. It's not a big deal, but she's nearing a panic about this stupid thing. Lying for a second is infinitely better than a whole room of donors witnessing her panic attack - and who knows what else.

"You caught me," she admits, though the tug of a tiny a smile curves up. In a whole room of musicians, conductors, connoisseurs and debutantes, she's managed to find another person that maybe feels like he doesn't belong.

She looks back over her shoulder. The woman is fast approaching. She swallows around another bitter shot of panic and says, quietly, "I'm going to take your arm now. I-if that's okay." She risks it and does it anyway. It makes her feel more polite, somehow: like maybe he is an old friend and she has a more acceptable reason to dodge this woman like she's the apocalypse and Vanya's her smallest (and oldest) brother.

With nothing more than a one second sort of gesture, she heads for the door, however stiff. She might be gripping this guy's arm kind of hard. She's no good at this sort of thing at all, and she's much worse at escaping it.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Of course, duck," Marcus answers and then, when they move in the direction of the door, he takes the lead, sweeping his way through the crowd with the confidence he's always had. He may not enjoy the small talk of such events, but only because he finds it pointless and shallow, not because he isn't good at it. Even now, years away from having been a priest, Marcus can make his presence large and well known, and people tend to move out of his way when he seems to be on a mission.

Once they're through the crowd and out the door, Marcus risks a glance back, then says, "She was rather bearing down on you like a hurricane, wasn't she? You would hope one might learn to read the room before laughing an attack of such a nature."

[fifthbeatle]

No one has ever called her duck before. She doesn't hate it. He's the reason her Gala Hail Mary Pass worked at all, so he could probably call her a couple things before she would put her foot down.

She's working on that.

On the other side of the door, Vanya takes a breath that feels like her first in an hour. Now that she's safe, she can start identifying symptoms of the panic attack that was brewing: some numbness in her fingers, that little bit of tunnel vision. It's all seeping out and backing off before it can claim her.

"She's just doing what she thinks is best for the students," Vanya either intuits or rationalizes. She removes her arm from his with a little duck of her head and steps aside a touch.

"I'm not proud of... a-and you didn't have to -- I mean, I shouldn't have--" Oh no. Ffor a quick second, she feels like she's about to slip under another anxious current, but she takes a breath and thinks about what she wants to say.

"Thank you," she says, raising her head to look at him. The weird fear and guilt and shame back off because she's not alone. She risked rejection by asking for help and was rewarded by getting it.

Now, it occurs to her that she's just left the building with a stranger after dark when her siblings have no idea where she is, but she's not going to let panic grab her that way, either.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"I'm here on behalf of the Children's Home and you don't see me steamrolling every musician in sight," he points out with a grin before taking his pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his jacket. Marcus smokes significantly less than he used to, maybe one or two in a week, though some weeks go by without a single cigarette. He carries them now out of habit more than anything.

"And you're welcome. Now, do you really want one?" he asks, holding the pack toward her.

He'll smoke with her if she does or he'll put them away if she doesn't. For the moment, he's content to breathe in the cooler evening air and keep his distance from the crowd inside. It's true he's meant to be making those connections Robin asked for, but perhaps he's making one now, and with significantly less painful small talk having to be done.

[fifthbeatle]

"I don't," Vanya admits. Her smile comes much easier to her, now. "but thank you, again. For the offer and for not - uh - steamrolling me."

It occurs to her how much she feels. This isn't her first schmoozy gala and it won't be her last. What's different is this time, she didn't run to the bathroom to cram some bullshit pills down her throat when she felt any flutter of discomfort. She puts her hand against her chest for a second, as if she can't believe the pulse rushing through her ear is coming from her. A little laugh bubbles up.

This is so lame. She's having a dull, regular experience and she feels like she jogged up three flights of steps.

"Sorry, I--" Fuck, she didn't mean to apologize. Too late now, and she has no idea how that sentence was going to end, anyway.

"I'm Vanya."

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Marcus," he tells her, putting the cigarettes back in his pocket and then offering his hand in introduction. "Trust me, duck, you needn't apologize. I'm hardly the right man for a schmoozy social gathering. Between you and me, I do believe my employer sent me here as a test to make sure I'm not likely to insult anyone important."

He's smiling as he says it, private and teasing, though there's some truth in his words. Marcus has never been a great poster boy for anything. The Church had kept him more or less a secret for the entirety of his career because of his sheer inability to suffer fools and their bullshit.

They had only kept him around at all because he had been the only exorcist worth a damn in their arsenal. Except perhaps Bennett, but Marcus was never going to admit that aloud.

[fifthbeatle]

Duck is still an odd one. No one has really called her anything but Vanya (or Seven), save for the occasional sweetheart or something from a guy across a street or sitting too close in a cafe. Or when Klaus calls her Vanny. She doesn't hate it. He did rescue her, after all, and it's an innocent enough name from a handsome enough man. There are many worse ways to spend a gala evening.

Vanya laughs at his self-assessment through the eyes of his boss. She says, "if you're looking for someone important to insult, I'm afraid you've made a terrible mistake." She's relieved most days that she's not someone important. Where would she even begin? She'd spent so much of her time in the shadows that, even as she slowly starts to make a (very small) name for herself as a musician in Darrow, she has no idea what to do with herself.

Interestingly enough, though, she finds she might want to be important someday. Not Gala-important - definitely not harbinger of the apocalypse important - but something else. Productive. Helpful. She wants to make meaningful change in the right direction. Whatever that means.

"I don't really like these things, either," she admits, since it's clear from the way she escaped from a very important donor that she's probably not going to be invited back. "If you're looking to leave the children's home in a blaze of glory, we can go back inside and find you someone important." She would love to see it, honestly. What socially awkward, oft-beaten-down musician wouldn't want to see a couple people put in their place?

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Oh, no," Marcus says, laughing softly. "I quite like my job and I'd prefer to keep it. The kids never expect much in the way of small talk."

For the most part, he doesn't have time for it. Before Darrow, he was too busy and he had greater things to do. His talent allowed for it, even if his superiors didn't like it and did, eventually, excommunicate him as a result of it. A combination of things, they'd said, but Marcus knows it's because he hadn't been willing to play the game.

Hadn't been willing to lie down while the demons made their way through the Vatican.

"Are you saying you're not important or not easily insulted?" he asks, tilting his head slightly as he studies her.

[fifthbeatle]

Vanya smiles. It's hard not to when a person seems to have a passion for what they do. Marcus puts up with the gala bullshit to do right by the kids he works for.

There are so many more good people in Darrow than the world as she knew it. At least, people that are willing to be good to her. Even she did make them complicit in a totally unnecessary lie.

"Both," she says with unequivocal certainty. If he were looking for someone to glad-hand (and he is not), he'd be way off-base with her. While her skin isn't as thick as she'd like it, she's certainly harder to devastate than she once was. She still thinks she's nothing, but at least there are others that don't think so, now.

She smiles gently, "I can tell you like your job," she adds. "I sometimes miss working with kids. You're right: they're not fake." She thinks about Harlan first, but her students from her private lessons, as well. In her experience, children are tenacious and resilient. They all deserve better than she and her siblings got.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Sometimes they're so transparent they turn into little assholes," Marcus agrees with a real laugh. "But I suppose that's no different than the rest of us."

Everyone is capable of being an asshole every now and again, even the nicest of people. Marcus wouldn't count himself among those people, the truly good ones. His patience has never been enough for that and his focus, before Darrow, had been utterly singular. Feelings had certainly been bruised in the process and he had never cared if it meant lives were saved.

Mouse, though, he regrets. Even now, knowing how she turned out, all the good she's done. Oh, he regrets how he hurt her.

"Did you give music lessons?" he guesses, imagining with her talent, that must be it.

[fifthbeatle]

She laughs again, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, and they're usually right," she estimates, "but at least they have the excuse that they don't know better." Carl surely thought Harlan was an asshole, but he was wrong. What he saw was his own bullshit and he projected it onto that sweet, sad boy. Sometimes Vanya misses Harlan so much it hurts. Sissy, too, but that's a hurt she doesn't like to examine as much. They could never be together and she knew it even when she knew nothing else. And Harlan, she must have traumatized him 100 times over. Some days, she would do anything to see him again, talk to him. Apologize.

"I did, yeah," Vanya confirms of the music lessons, unable to keep a little smile from the corners of her eyes. "Some of the most remarkable talent I saw wasn't in an orchestra. I had young students that could play circles around me." And it never hurt. Vanya wishes more of the world saw music like she did: a safehaven, something to be shared by all.

And she doesn't think about how she in particular can sow destruction with it. That's now what she wants. Not anymore.

"Did you work with kids a lot back home?"

[pushbackthedarkness]

She says this without a hint of jealousy in her tone and Marcus admires that. Musicians are often sensitive he's found, because while he's never been one himself, his love for live music has found him in many bars and many venues, sharing drinks with many musicians as he absorbed everything they had to give. Their music, of course, but their passion, too, and their insecurities.

It's a difficult industry. Sometimes even the most talented never get anywhere.

He's prepared to answer her question in the negative, then hesitates. Truthfully, he's worked with far too many children in his role as an exorcist, more than he wishes were true. Children are open books, though, ready and willing to accept a new friend who may not have their best interests at heart.

"In a sense," he settles on saying. "I was a priest."

[fifthbeatle]

Marcus' answer is strange and interesting. Vanya smiles again. "I don't understand, do Priests not often work with children?" As soon as she says it, she realizes there's a whole thing around this very topic, but she blinks this untimely thought down. Of course that's not what she meant. Mostly she wants to touch on the strangeness of the answer.

"I-I don't know much about religion." And she doesn't. Reginald was blissfully silent on the topic. Still, her face burns. She silently begs him to have mercy on her and for herself to stop talking forever.

[pushbackthedarkness]

Marcus returns her comment with a pointed look and an arched eyebrow before giving a genuinely amused laugh. There is so much wrong with the Catholic Church, rot that can be traced right back to its very core, and the reputation is rightly has with children is some of its worst crimes.

"I wasn't a priest in the traditional sense," he says. "I didn't work in a church, I didn't have a congregation and I certainly didn't lead any sermons. I imagine half the bishops in the Vatican would have sooner sold their souls to the devil than allowed me to properly preach."

Which was just fine with Marcus.

He hesitates, then says, "I was an exorcist. Still am, I suppose, though it's less necessary in Darrow than it used to be."

[fifthbeatle]

Oh.

At this point, Vanya believes him without difficulty. The world she comes from is strange in that it seems magic of some sort is possible. Ghosts are very real: they've tortured her brother to restlessness his whole life. Until she got here and met Sam, she never considered what this might mean about the afterlife, or different types of afterlife. She can't say she doesn't believe in evil. She's embodied it. There was no exorcism for her: she was in control every second. No time can be spent on which is more terrible.

Several moments pass in which Vanya is attempting to speak and failing spectacularly. Her face is growing redder by the second as she sort of... stares at him. It's not her finest moment, but far from her worst.

"I - um. Wow. That's-- I-I'm sorry I don't know what to say." She closes in on herself a bit, but finally comes up with, "that must be difficult work."

Nice, Vanya. Real nice.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Well, you know," he says. "Demons aren't exactly fun."

There's something he's said that's resonating with her, though he can't work out why. There's no demon having taken up post inside of her, he would have seen it by now, no matter how good it might be at hiding itself.

"What is it?" he asks. Another person might beat around the bush or let her off the hook, so to speak, but Marcus doesn't see the point in pretending something isn't happening when it is. Especially right in front of him.

[fifthbeatle]

While she finds herself comforted by his frankness, there is plenty more to fear. First of all, there's the looming discomfort of the gala rolling along inside, of the woman that might find them at any moment. If she were to overhear - if anyone were to overhear, would she get in some kind of trouble? If justice exists, one day she will pay for what she's done, no matter what she does to justify through context, or to retroactively earn her freedom by being a better person going forward.

"I--" There's a long second where she almost tells him what she's done. Not who she is or how she got there, but that she's done terrible things. Unspeakable. Some people - her brother included - spend their lives fearing the end of days - and she ushered it in. She blew it up. No horsemen, no beacon, no alarm. Just crack and nothing.

"I-I'm sorry," she course-corrects, her gaze darting to the floor in hopes he's missed it all - all of the terror and doubt and, sure, evil that she is. Of course not. But he's not a priest and even if she was, he didn't ask for her Confession. By talking to him about it, all she's doing is endangering herself and everyone around. No, this is something best left in the past of another dimension, a place Vanya's mind is stuck, suddenly.

[pushbackthedarkness]

Marcus watches Vanya for a long moment, then cracks a smile and says, "Come on, duck. Let's find a food truck or something. I'm dying for a proper taco after pretending to like those little sausages wrapped in pastry."

There's something more going on with her and while Marcus doubts very much there's a demon in this girl, he does have a responsibility to this city, to his family and his friends, to at least consider the possibility. In order to keep them safe, in order to keep her safe. And perhaps a little while longer in her company will give him a better sense of what she's holding onto.

"Neither of us really want to be here, after all," he says. "And this way we can use each other as an alibi. Of course I stayed. I was with the violinist!"

[fifthbeatle]

That moment of silence is torture. So much so that she can't really suss out what it's about. Vanya's not a demon, though certain adopted fathers might disagree, and she can't imagine coming off as one. It's just that she feels like one. Rather, like there's one hiding inside her, forever cognizant of her torment, ready to bring it to light the second she lets her guard down enough to let it. She doesn't need a(n ex-) priest, she needs a therapist. Preferably one that knows something about discovering latent superpowers. Since that doesn't exist, her support comes from her family, her friends.

Still, he makes her laugh, a full sound that surprises her enough that she feels the need to tuck a side of her hair behind her ears in a reflexive semblance of composure.

"I like the playing music part," she feels the need to say, not just because he's a donor or enthusiast or whatever, but because it's one of the deepest, gentlest truths about her: music is the power imbued herself with. And she loves it as deeply as she loves her family.

"There's a place around the corner with some good food," she adds, swallowing hard since she's afraid Marcus is digging for something or won't let her hedge her obvious discomfort for long. She tries to focus on something positive, something not-her. "I've never been, but one of my brothers really likes it."

[pushbackthedarkness]

"I could tell," Marcus says, allowing Vanya to lead the way to this place with the good food her brothers enjoy. "You're very talented, but more than that, there's a very clear love for the music coming through. It seems as though playing music is just part of the soul for some people. A piece of themselves they wouldn't exist fully without."

He admires it and he loves to see it. While Marcus can't play a single solitary instrument, he knows enough to bask in the glow of people who do and who love it, too.

He pauses for a second and checks his watch, then says, "Actually, I think I have a better idea. We can still get food, but I'd like to show you something."

[fifthbeatle]

Oh, it is certainly a piece of Vanya's soul. For as long as she's known the truth about herself, she's wondered how much of her relationship to music was an accident. It's a neat little fantasy, the idea that Vanya was drawn to music because a part of her could not be suppressed. Despite her father's control of her memory, her heart couldn't forget the feeling of rightness in sound, in controlling it.

These days, she wonders if people notice she's magic, that the air in the room changes when she and her violin become one instrument. This one doesn't seem to have, and he's proven himself to be sharper than many.

"That is a very nice thing to say," Vanya says, just like one of her therapists taught her. On the rare occasion (though it happens more and more these days) someone pays her a compliment, she has no idea what to do with herself. Thank you seems arrogant. Saying nothing is worse. She does like to hear it, though, and that's a whole other shame convection.

Vanya doesn't shift to look at him until he suggests a detour. Being a woman, a formerly-ordinary being among her powered family, being small and unassuming, Vanya finds herself anxious. Still, her feet carry her forward, and her voice says quietly, "okay."

He doesn't seem like a creep, but her judgement has not been sound before. All she can do is hope she isn't put in a situation where she can hurt him.

[pushbackthedarkness]

He would have to be an idiot not to notice the hesitation, the bit of anxiety, so he takes care to keep a bit of distance between them as they walk. The place he wants to show her isn't far, just the next block over, well lit and bright with people and music.

Even before they get there, Marcus can feel the thrumming of the guitars through the street and he closes his eyes briefly, then smiles.

"My husband doesn't love this place," he admits. "Too many people for his tastes, but the music..." He trails off and shakes his head in obvious pleasure. The doorman raises his hand when Marcus gets close enough and he's treated to a smile in return.

"Hullo, Henry," Marcus says in greeting. "Who's playing tonight?"

"Viv," Henry answers. "Your favourite goddess on the guitar. Go on in."

[fifthbeatle]

They walk in easy silence - a gift. Marcus keeps an obviously respectable distance. Vanya is comforted for both things: the silence and the space. The music hits her ear before they've turned the corner. She can't help but smile over at her companion. Bringing an anxious, troubled musician from the barren wasteland of the post-concert benefit to a charming little box of a place alive with music that awes him to where he can only appreciate it silently - it's the kind of gesture only a couple types of people would make. She can only hope he's one type over the other.

"How have I never heard of this place?" Vanya marvels, tilting her little head all the way up to look at the top of it, over the sides like maybe it's a mirage or a projection.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"It took me about three months before I made my way here," Marcus answers, lifting his voice over the music as they descend the stairs that takes them into the basement bar. Given that it's literally underground, a tiny hole in the wall sort of place, it should seem dark and sullen, but instead it feels alive to Marcus. There are lights and music, people laughing and talking, and on the stage is Viv and her band.

She wails away on her guitar, fingers dancing over the fretboard in movements so quick Marcus can barely even see them. The music is lively and people are dancing, but Marcus nods toward the bar instead, leading Vanya toward it.

"Just a glass of water for me tonight," he calls to the bartender, then looks at Vanya. "Would you like something?"

[fifthbeatle]

"Water would be great, thank you," Vanya replies loud enough for the bartender to hear. She only looks at them for long enough to be polite and then her eyes are back to the stage where this woman - Viv - is smashing on an electric guitar with the most astounding grace.

She always liked the guitar. An unsuitable instrument, Number Seven remembers. The violin in the case strapped around her chest was a means to make herself more extraordinary, a power she could give herself. In some other universe, maybe this is her.

A few people start to applaud her in a run of fabulous arpeggios and Vanya joins in herself with a little whoop. She smiles up at Marcus and asks, "how did you find it?"

[pushbackthedarkness]

"I've been all over the world and I always make it my mission to find the live music," he admits, thinking to all the places he's been. Often, it hasn't been as easy as that. He's been busy, wrapped up in trying to save a life, but at the end of it all, when it goes well (which it always had, right up until Gabriel), Marcus found the music.

"My parents died when I was seven," he tells Vanya. Died is too nice a description for it, but he doesn't think this is the place to get into all the gory details. "I lived in a boy's home until I was twelve, when the Church bought me. The best way to escape everything I hated about my life was through music. I would listen to anything I could get my hands on, but I loved rock."

He smiles and says, "The nuns, on the other hand, loved it much less."

[fifthbeatle]

When Marcus looks down he will see a sad, knowing smile devoid of pity, from one orphan to another. It's not the same, but Vanya can't find it in her to count the robot she called Mom as Mother anymore. Not one adult in her life - from the woman that birthed her on down the line, human and otherwise - ever did right by her. Two-thirds of her caretakers died by her hand. The last would deserve nothing less, but he had the good sense to die before Vanya knew who she was.

Deep down she sometimes wishes her mother were dead. She suspects it might be easier to understand than knowing she sold her kid to a billionaire of unknown origin.

"My -- the guy who adopted my brothers and sister and me wasn't a fan either," she commiserates, the dry tone to her voice still belying her distaste plenty.

"Did you ever want to play?"

[pushbackthedarkness]

"I never thought about it much," he admits. "I think when you feel called to something, you know it, and music, like art or exorcisms, is something you need to be called to."

Marcus can draw, he can paint, and he does so beautifully. He knows he has taken, even if he often uses that talent to explore and try to deal with the awful things he's seen and experienced. Art is an outlet for him, a place where he can put all the darkness that has lived inside of him and around him for his entire life.

"By the time I would have had the chance to try, I was too busy with other things," he continues. "I started training to be an exorcist when I was just twelve and from then on, it was all I did."

[fifthbeatle]

She almost says it, gets as far as the little huff of a laugh that comes before she calls herself ordinary, but he's right. She always knew music was her path to freedom, she just didn't know how right she was. Or that her life had already been written for her until she landed here.

(So many dark, quiet night, she wonders how much of any of her life was an accident. Did Dad leave the violin out for her to find? Did he always know the apocalypse was going to happen, did he know it would always be Vanya? If so, how can he purport to have been trying to stop the world when he had such a large hand in it?)

Is that what they're doing here? Has he brought her here to gauge her level of belonging after she stammered and quietly freaked out about the concept of evil (like a very niche dumbass)?

Twelve is a hell of an age to start learning to exercise demons, but if a calling's a calling, Vanya was about that age when she decided her purpose was to play music. And she was right. So, he may have been, too. Which brings her to a question:

"Do you think it's what you were meant to do?" Vanya asks, no hesitation in this earnest query from deep within her, even as she scream-whispers it over the music.

[pushbackthedarkness]

"Yes," Marcus answers. "Beyond all doubt, I was meant to be an exorcist."

He understands now that he's meant for more than that, though he wouldn't have said so five years ago. Now, though, he has other callings. He's a counsellor to children, he's a father to Sabrina, he's a husband to Dan, a best friend to Neil, brother and partner in crime to Sam. He's meant for all these things and more. It's been incredibly freeing, the Church having cut him off.

"I was excommunicated, though," he adds. "So now I have to do it under the radar, so to speak. Which is easy enough in Darrow. The Catholic Church tends to keep to itself here."