holy water (Liam)

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Twelve beers and a fifth of gin. That was what was in Grace's blood stream. She wasn't breaking any laws; she was of age, and she didn't drive. Even drunk Grace knew better than that. Instead, she was staggering around town with a vodka bottle in her hand.

At 10:00, there wasn't much that Grace wanted to do. She was upset, it was just a different kind. She was inebriated and so a kind of calm settled over her, and she wasn't crying anymore. She just wanted to be somehwere where it was quiet. As she turned onto church street, she spotted the best place for quiet--the Catholic church!

Grace had never even set foot in a church before. But tonight, she got the holy spirit and so she staggered in. She stumbled down the aisle and noticed the chalice. She looked at it and picked it up. It looked like a good size for her vodka. The nineteen year old poured some vodka in the chalice, spilling the majority of it on the carpet. "whoops" she slurred, when she had gotten some on her pants.

she took a seat in the first pew and took a sip. Looking up, she saw the statue of Jesus on the cross and stood back up. "You look like you're just hanging around" she joked with a giggle. The brunette didn't even know who Jesus was, so it didn't matter to her. "You want some?" she held up the Chalice to the statue.

[Liam Sullivan]

The church was quiet; but in nature of tradition, the place remained open at all hours as a sanctuary. Liam was alone inside the giant church, although he stayed close to the room of worship. Wandering around would serve no purpose. The silence was taken as an opportunity to pray and think. There was nothing out of order, no one inside to tend to and the young man quietly recited a prayer. He knew it word for word, but it didn't make it any more genuine, or less from the heart. He felt that lift in his heart, deep into his very soul. It was as if something touched him from the inside and warmed every part of him. He was content in the solitary whisperings of his faith. There was no doubt in his mind that God was right there with him, listening. "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum—" Smooth Latin was spoken fluently, and he did understand every word. Liam had been learning the language since he was a child in Catholic school. He couldn't name one priest that didn't know the language. There were noises not far, however, that forced him to pause. But, not about to stop, he hurried along, "quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen." Just because it was rushed didn't make it any less from the heart. Liam just didn't feel comfortable in not finishing the prayer. Quickly, he stood, and slowly walked in the direction of the noise. He was dressed in black attire, from trousers to the black button up, adorned with the white collar. When he saw the cop sitting there, offering Jesus the chalice filled with something other than sacramental wine, his eyes widened. The girl was probably a number of years younger than him. With purpose, he strided over. "Considerin' he's a statue, I'd say he's not thirsty." The girl smelled of alcohol and he nearly cringed. What was that? Vodka? He was positive it was, sure smelled like it. Though, beer was definitely on her.

Liam had never been outright wasted before. He was encouraged not to be irresponsible and gluttonous with alcohol. Of course, he was allowed to drink. He was allowed to have an entire life with friends and family, but he had to act appropriately according to the vows he had taken and in terms of God's word. And being piss drunk was pretty low to fall. "I kind of need you to be handin' that over," he reached out for the Chalice, having a hard time not just snatching it out of her hands. It bothered him significantly to see such a holy object being used for some drunk woman's revelry. Had it not been for that, he would've actually been pretty amused. He was keeping a steady and proper act though. He was carrying out his duties, not playing around.

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Grace looked up and smiled. "Well, you're a cute one." she flirted with a grin. "I was just trying to share, y'know? Cause sharing is caring." When he reached for the chalice, Grace frowned and took a drink. "You're not being very nice. You're supposed to say please."

She took another drink of vodka and looked around. "This place is really nice. Where's the box?" While Grace was making perfect sense to herself, she probably wasn't to the untrained, sober eye. But she wasn't thinking about that. She wasn't thinking about too much at all.

[Liam Sullivan]

"Yeah, adorable, I'm sure," he mumbled, hiding his amusement. Were cops even supposed to be drunk while in uniform? To him it sounded like it would be a strong sign of disrespect to the police force and her occupation. Not to mention, if anyone thought the woman in uniform was supposed to help or protect them then they were sadly mistaken. Last he checked cops weren't behaving appropriately when they were drinking vodka out of a religious item and offering it to Jesus. "Well, I'm sure he appreciates your—generous intentions, but he's made of—" he looked up at the statue momentarily, "I think some kind of Bronze." Shaking his head, he continued, "Regardless, statues don't, as a rule, drink." He didn't even answer her when she said he wasn't very nice. Instead, he reached out that time with the intent of actually snatching it up out of her hand. She was drunk and he doubted that she'd keep that good of grip on it. "Not bein' nice drinking out of someone else's Chalice, give it here."

Liam raised an eyebrow at her. Box? Confused, he actually looked around as if he'd somehow see a box that she might be referring to. It occurred to him that listening to someone when they were drunk wasn't always the smartest idea. They didn't have a tendency to say anything that made a lot of sense. "Box? I don't know that there's a box." Liam wasn't going to go as far as to try to get her out of the cathedral. But, he couldn't let her sit there and get drunk, especially not out of the 'cup' she chose to use. As much as being drunk and disorderly was disrespectful, it was forgiveable and he'd tolerate it (and try not to laugh, because that was, to say the least, far from priestly). But, he wasn't going to let her keep the Chalice in hand. No way.

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Grace gazed up at the poor man on the cross. She put her hand up and patted the bottom of it. "Well, he needs it! Look at him! He looks like someone's trying to kill him! With the stuff in his hands and stuff...that has to hurt!"

When he reached out again and said to give it, she pulled away, holding it out of his reach. "Noooo!" she whined. "It's mine! And I'm not sharing with Mr. Meanie Pants" She took another drink and started to walk around, though not very straight.

"The box...you know....the box! Where you sit and people say "Father, forgive me for-" she stopped and her eyebrows furrowed. "For....for somethin. I dunno. I never went to churchy stuff places. But I saw it on a moovie." she took another drink and put her hand up against the wall as she slurred her explanation to him.

[Liam Sullivan]

"Well, that's the general idea," Liam replied, not about to try to tell her why he was hoisted up there on the cross. They said to preach to ailing, to the lost, but by no means had anyone ever told him to spread the word of God to the drunk. Besides drunks were better story teller. "But you know, again, he's bronze, really not ailing for a drink," he assured her, and when he couldn't get the cup, he nearly groaned with frustration, but kept his patience. Mr. Meanie Pants? Better than Mrs. Drunken Tumbler, if you asked him. Silently, he scolded himself for it, understanding the pettiness of it. He was only human. He followed her as she started to walk, "Actually, it's not yours, should've kept the booze in the bottle. Now give it here," he said, standing in front of her and reaching out to try to snatch it again. God, he felt like a little kid, trying to grab something from a sibling. Her description of the box made sense and he looked at her and then over to the confession booth, back to her and blinked slowly. Could she not see it? Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured to the large confession booth.

"Y'see that big old box right there, made of wood with the crosses and the doors? I think that's what you're lookin' for... But, please, unless you need it, leave it be. It doesn't need vodka." God, he didn't want to think about getting that smell out of it if she happened to go in. But he couldn't stop her either. He really disliked the smell too, it reminded him of his nutter uncle, the one that never stopped calling him 'Lemonlad' or 'half pint', even still, and that tried to climb to the roof of the house on Christmas to fix the lights and wound up falling off, wrapped in Christmas lights himself. Actually, that was pretty hilarious, but he always smelled like alcohol.

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"Do you really want it?" she asked, holding it out of his reach again. "You're gonna have to earn it, cutie." The suggestion in her tone of voice was matched with a flirty grin. She was, after all, her father's daughter. She didn't do anything for just anyone for free. The thought confused her, but she still stood by it.

At the mention of her needing it, she giggled. "Why would I need it? My dad and me, we talk in the living room, or sometimes the car. We don't use a box" Had she not been wasted, she would have understood that the term father was not meant in a literal sense. She really was wiser when she was sober.

[Liam Sullivan]

Oh, lord, please keep me from stranglin' this woman. Again he was forced to drop his hand to his side. It wasn't as if he could force it out of her hands. It was impossible and Liam wasn't about to treat her the way he would one of his siblings and tackle her to pry it out of her hands. Even that he hadn't done in about five years anyway. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle the situation, except for in a calm manner. To do anything else would practically be a front to the entire church. Naturally, he felt guilty for even considering ways of getting it back for her. As a Catholic, it was common to be hard on himself when thoughts like that got the best of him. Her suggestive, flirty nature didn't even put him in any discomfort. His eyebrows lifted quizzically at her. "As pretty of an offer as that is, no." He replied without skipping a beat. And it wasn't a pretty offer. It was the complete opposite. Even if he wasn't celibate and very devout in his choices, she would have been the last person on his list. There was something about drunk flirting that was... Not cute, but instead kind of obnoxious. But, Liam couldn't even see her that way. She was just another one of God's children and he had his energy focused into something more worthwhile to his spirit.

"Well, in that case, guess you don't need it." He said, not about to explain that it wasn't for an actual biological father to speak to his kid. He would much rather just keep her from going over to the booth. "Hey, y'know what, why don't you sit down? You look like you could use it." He was a little worried about her, since she was completely wasted. Who wouldn't be?

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Grace giggled "well, ok then" she said and started to take another drink, but frowned. There was only a tiny bit left, especially since she had spilled the majority of her alcohol anyways. "Here, it's a gift from me to your bronze...hurting....guy" she pointed to the statue as she handed him the Chalice back. After all, she hadn't planned on keeping it. She simply wanted to drink out of it.

When he told her to sit down, her mind flashed back to the guy at Andre's office...which led to her remembering why she was in the office in the first place. Her eyes widened, she took several steps back fearfully. "No! Don't-don't hurt me!" her words were panicked and pressed. She continued to back up, but she wasn't going straight and ended up slamming into the corner of a pew and stumbling backwards. Her heart was pounding and she started to cry. The girl really did fear for her life. She had just forgotten that for a while.