The stranger's smile was the kind that failed to reach his eyes. Lucien stood still before him, his hands folded into his robes.
"May I help you with something?" He asked, and the stranger tilted his head a little, walking in a circle around him.
"You know," The man said with a slow drawl, "I didn't expect Michel to be friends with a priest, of all people."
Now what was that supposed to mean? Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched the man carefully.
"Pardon –" But he was cut off by the stranger sticking his hand out, extended towards the priest.
"My name's Gabriel. We both know Michel, so let's be friends, alright? I'd hate to make an enemy of a holy man."
Lucien took his hand carefully and shook it gently, gasping in surprise when Gabriel pulled him in a little closer to himself. He withdrew his hand quickly, frowning at the brunette with annoyance folding his mouth into a frown. "Father Lucien," He said quickly and quietly, "And need I remind you sir, we are in a church."
"We weren't when we met for the first time, now were we?" Gabriel leaned in closer with a wink, his hands crossed over his chest. Lucien leaned back, turning his head away so that the other man could not see his blush.
"I don't know what you mean." He stated bluntly, and he heard Gabriel make a tsk tsk noise in response.
"Lying in church is not very priestly of you, Father Lucien. I know you saw Michel and I on that night you visited his manor."
How could he possibly know? Lucien turned his eyes back to the man's face and searched it for any sign of a lie. Irritatingly, he found none. There was no subtle quirk of the lips, no glancing away of his dark eyes. No, rather, the brunette kept his gaze sturdy and his brows raised, as he waited for the priest to answer.
"I… Don't know what you mean. If I saw you in passing, then I have no memory of it." He lied, and felt disappointed in himself for how easy it came to him. Gabriel leaned back and laughed, shaking his head.
"Tough crowd! I'm sure we'll be seeing more and more of each other the more you stick around Michel anyways, so why hide it? Or maybe…"
Something glittered in those dark eyes of Gabriel's and Lucien's mouth quivered softly. He wasn't afraid, but embarrassed – he braced himself for whatever he was going to say.
"You enjoyed watching him put his hands on me —"
"That is enough, Gabriel." He said sternly, surprising both himself and Gabriel both. "We are in a church, and I won't pardon your sinful words."
"Sinful!" Gabriel parroted, "If you think that's bad, you haven't even seen the beginnings of the things he does to me when we're alone."
Lucien's nose turned up and he wrenched his eyes away from that upturned smirk on Gabriel's face. So this was the company that Michel kept when he wasn't around? How utterly … ridiculous. Foolish. Annoying. And many more words that he kept to himself, as he exhaled through his nose.
"I don't want to know what my friend gets up to in his private affairs." Lucien said with a frown, "And I think you should leave. I still have a lot of cleaning up to do."
"Oh, don't worry, father. As long as I'm in town, you'll be seeing more of me."
Lucien's eyes turned back to Gabriel's face as he grabbed his coat and headed for the double doors. He watched him go, clutching the broom close to himself just in case he had to shoo him out with it. Luckily, the man left without saying goodbye. Lucien exhaled softly, saying another prayer over himself and making the sign of the cross.
"Lord, give me strength." He murmured to himself, almost sarcastically. He returned to his chores, but the words that Gabriel had uttered kept replaying in his mind. He kept imagining that night, the little smirk on Michel's upturned mouth, those ivory teeth of his that were threatening to sink into skin, the red blush coloring his pale skin. He shook his head, trying to forget what he'd seen. Michel's strong hands wrapped around Gabriel's waist, the tenderness in his red –
Wait. Red eyes? Michel had dark green eyes, didn't he? Lucien's mind spun with questions and ideas and he had to sit down in the middle of his cleaning in order to compose himself. He had been seeing things, that was all there was to it. Gabriel's taunting didn't help, he felt very riled up and annoyed by Michel, and knew it was unfair of him.
It wasn't as though Michel had done anything wrong. But the mind is irrational; emotions more so. He considered writing Michel a letter, asking him how he'd met Gabriel. What their relationship was. What he was doing there on the night he'd spent at the count's manor. Too many questions ran through him and he needed answers. He caught himself a little, shaking his head once more as he grabbed a parchment and a quill. Dipping the quill into the ink, he began to write, letting himself be honest.
Dearest Michel Chastain,
I have met your friend Gabriel, and I have to ask how you came to know such a man. He is–
He thought for a moment, he couldn't very well call Michel's friend annoying or unsavory…
Certainly an experience. He came to the wedding that I had officiated today, and seemed to know the bride or the groom, introducing himself to me in his own … unique way. That was the nice way of putting it, at least. Lucien's mouth twisted into a wry little smile as he continued to write, and as the ink of the letter dried, he finished his sweeping and tidying. The moon's bright face shone through the church's stained glass and painted him in rainbows. Lucien turned his hands over in the light to look at the smoothness of his fingers, thinking of how it made him look like he hadn't worked a day in his life. He had been an orphan, and before that, his mother had treated him as though he was a parasite in her life instead of the child that she had chosen to have. They were poor, she could barely afford to feed herself and her husband and child, and there were days when Lucien went without eating anything at all save for some hard bread. He did not miss those days. When Saint Mary's church had opened its doors to him, he took it and ran from home without a single glance back.
Lucien slipped the letter into the outgoing pile and stared up at the partly gathered clouds.
O father above, forgive this sinner.
O Lord, bless this little life you've given me.
O Lord, bring peace and longevity to those I care for …
Whether or not his prayer would be heard, Lucien truthfully didn't know. There were hours when he prayed for forgiveness for his sins, days where he cursed the very God he now served for bringing misery to his life, and now …
Maybe there was merit to having someone else here with him. He contemplated asking his Mother Superior for a companion as the moon rose across the valley and coated everything in her silvery light, coaxing its inhabitants into a gentle slumber. He had plenty of time to think. That was, perhaps, the most damning thing about staying in the church: The freedom to think.