Scraaaaaaaaaaaape.

Ropati watched Mr. Brennan through the reflection in his spectacle lense, but his gaze remained stalwartly forward.

“Don’t they take money?” Ropati deadpanned right back. “In those little saucers – the ones that get passed around a second time if they don’t get as much as they’d like the first.”

Probably shouldn’t be saying this out loud to the man he’d most likely have to appeal future purchases to-

SCCRrrrRrRrraapep-p-p

-… but it was a little hard to concentrate. Ropati smiled apologetically.

The door slammed out front, and his chin uncoiled from the bottom of his neck with a sigh of relief.

“Yes,” Ropati answered. “My second biggest religious buyer.”

He finally sidestepped away from the door, and dared venture back into the sanctuary. No sign of the priest … and the podium was missing, too. There was someone at the entrance, also unfamiliar … with the flowers on the stand by the door carefully set on the floor, and the stand in his hands.

“Excuse me,” Ropati said.

The fellow put the stand down and picked the vase up, checking it over.

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen Father Peter?”

“Ah, no, he usually goes out for lunch about now.”

Well, at least the thieves were attentive. He glanced back to Mr. Brennan's direction.