She was both apologetic and seemingly sincere in her speech, as cryptic as those combinations of carefully chosen words may have been. Even still, Micheal felt it in his heart that she was not lying to him outright. So what, he was supposed to be some sort of savior according to her? What gave him the right to be chosen for something obviously above his station? It wasn't God that had done the choosing either judging from the way Neviah spoke about<i>seeing</i>and<i>feeling</i>things. It was that particular line that gave his thoughts cause to halt for a moment.<br/><br/>Stepping away from her Micheal made his way to the tiny little kitchen that sat just off to the side of the living area. From the back corner of a cabinet that looked to the casual observer to hold only plain white ceramic plates and bowls the priest produced a bottle of bourbon. The label identified it as some off-brand swill, but it wasn't meant for social calls in the first place. No, the bottle was there to drown sorrows and ease anxieties, and right now it was going to work towards the latter. He pulled down one glass, then as though he had to consider it for a moment, pulled down a second glass to accommodate his guest. Pouring two fingers worth of liquor into each glass Micheal swigged his down, relishing in the slight burn the liquid left along his throat before refilling his own container.<br/><br/>He carried the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other as he returned to Neviah in the living room and sat his hospitality on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch. Before she could even say anything about his choice of beverage he shrugged, "What do you expect? I'm a priest, but that doesn't make me a saint."<br/><br/>Patting the sofa cushion next to him as an invitation he figured if she was willing to answer his questions he would get to asking a few before she decided to up and leave as she had in the past. "So, you say you have been protecting me. From what exactly? Because you seem to have an uncanny way of knowing what is going to happen to me before it actually does." His thoughts strayed to the near-miss just a half an hour before and an uncontrollable chill ran down his spine. He quickly downed the second of his drinks to warm himself, but restrained from reaching for the bottle again at the moment. He could have easily drank himself into a stupor, but he needed to keep his head somewhat cleared if he was going to make any sense of the mysterious figure that was in his presence.<br/><br/>"Also," Micheal continued before waiting for her answers, "what did you mean by 'as long as your body lasts'? What in the hell are you Neviah if you aren't some sort of angel? You certainly aren't human, I think we've pretty well established that."<br/><br/>His mind raced with possibilities, and with each new one at least three more questions arose. He knew that he was firing of one question after another, not really giving her room to interject, but he couldn't stop himself. For all he knew his mind had finally snapped completely and he was having drinks with some sort of delusion. He tried to remember if Joseph had actually acknowledged that she was there with him, but he never heard the boy speak to her or vice versa. If it was a mental break Micheal had to commend himself on coming up with one hell of a script.