Aslan generally took it any way he offered it.

“This is excellent, thank you.”

He cleared a spot for the tea cup to sit, prioritizing the folder with more on the butcher-cut cases. Did Brennan have butchering skills? Did he have an accomplice? Was he fucking an accomplice?

… Not relevant.

Again, sharp eyes locked on Crane and his discomfort. Something odd was going on at that church – that much was clear.

“Careful about getting too close to God,” Aslan joked.

‘Joked’.

“Where would you say Father Richards falls between Kemble and Brennan?”