Gabriel's pale sun-shunned face gained a little colour. Oh dear, had he already caused annoyance? He wasn't certain how to handle the jab and instinctively decided to treat it as well meaning banter and his own words as such as well. "Oh they are quite comfortable in the fold. Always welcome to come have a look," he laughed it off.

Then, eager to smooth things over with the barman he took a sip of his drink, only to be able to then raise the glass and mutter: "Hm, this is good." It was ghastly. He didn't know how he had enjoyed it in his student days.

Now to turn to more civil conversation. He turned back to the Anglican minister. "How are you finding Whitby so far,.. reverend?" he settled for that. He couldn't call the man 'father' and to address him as 'vicar' would be to admit the validity of his ordination. But neither did he want to cause offence with a simple 'sir'.