Señor. [He pauses, not even sure why this sounds different. As far as he's concerned he's always speaking Spanish, but for whatever reason he comes from a place where there is Spanish and Spanish.] Mister. Yes, that's it.
Tavros, a lovely name. [Not that he can really judge.] And, ah, thank you. Sincerely. He tends to get in trouble without me. Or with me, really, but it's so much more fun together.
Anyway! What's Alternia like? It sounds fascinating.
[Well, he isn't even sure what he'd call it. It's not really nice enough or bad enough to be either of those places. But this being the end seems to make the most sense, right?]
--hm. I guess there's no truly polite way to ask this, then.
Ohmigod, I totally couldn't be a priest! I'm a little too married for that, and it might kinda be a conflict of interests, anyway.
[As a nation, how absolute was his loyalty to the Vatican allowed to be? He's never really thought about it. He thinks about difficult things as little as possible :D]
But there weren't any priests here when I got here, so I figured, like, enough holy water and praying should totally do the trick, you know?
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