“I know it’s probably an odd request, but I have my reasons.” Specifically demon-centred ones. Exorcisms were a no-go for her, they didn’t work if you had no faith. It meant she had to kill them, and their host in the process. Holy water was good for weakening them.
A faint smile crept over her face, thought it barely lasted a second and was more a mere quirk of her lips. “Thanks,” pausing a moment, her head tilted a little to the side. “British, huh? Shouldn’t be that hard for me to understand. Or I’d hope, since I was born across the pond. Unless he’s Welsh. Not so good with the Welsh.”
There is a guttural urge to just grunt in response to her, though he doesn’t. He’s trying to change himself from the man he was before, the instinctual kind that doesn’t much speak except to say something foul. Still, Jesse squints up at her-the sun to her back, and nods his agreeance. He doesn’t give a fuck why she needs it really-but he’ll comment on it to make her go away faster.
“I reckon it’s nothing nefarious then,” he smiles at his own humor, though no one will get it.
To the Cassidy comment he shrugs. She sure likes to talk about herself doesn’t she? The comment slips out before he can stop himself.
“Ya got an awful lot to say about yourself to a stranger do ya?”’
“Ah… Sorry for bothering you.” The apology was hollow sounding, but she’d do anything to feign politeness. She eyes the beer but said nothing. Not her business even if she had never know a pastor to drink.
“I was just passing through,” not a lie for once, she had just passing through on her way home from a rather gruesome case. But that unusual death caught her attention, as they always did. In her experience, people who wanted to die found means less…. eccentric than cutting out an internal organ. Not that Sharna had any plans to mention that, not just yet. Most folks tended not to take kindly to prying for information on the recently deceased unless you were some official figure. “and I have an… odd request, I guess.” Her tongue clicked and a foot was dragged backover across the ground; she wasn’t much of a people person, certainly not so soon after a job. And the noise was deafening to the vampiress’ sensitive ears, hard to filter it all out when she was tired. “Holy water. Think I could trouble you for some, padre?”
It’s a usual afternoon full of the oddest requests-hardly the only one to come up to him with something to weird to say. Strangers come by and by are becoming more and more common in Annville it seemed, and Jesse seemed to be oblivious to the reasons why. Holy Water is something he buys from some shit shop in Vietnam, hardly anything Holy about it. But shit, hell, he will humor her with some.
A scratch over his beard tells him he’s got to shave tonight or tomorrow, and also that he’s done thinking about the answer.
“Guess you could get some-” he answers, setting his beer down by the edge of his lawn chair, “Ask Cassidy inside for it-you’ll know who that is, the man ya can’t understand. British or something.”
