<em>Beware the deceits of the opponent</em>. His training echoed in his head, but it was rather hollow, as the sound through a train tunnel, or a voice devoid of feeling. Yes, feeling, that was it--she had so much of it, such spontaneity, while his God and his faith had become something much different, something stolid and stale, black and white and maybe a little gray while here, there was so much color.<em>Beware the deceits of the opponent.</em>The line about corruption may have been wrong, but her characterization of his God now seemed so true.<br/><br/>Biting his lip, a thin line of red blood formed as he looked to her. His guilt overwhelmed him, that was one thing the Church instilled correctly, but with her help it was transforming, becoming something different, something more. "I... I have never known a woman's touch... but perhaps... more of the carnival as well..." He was obviously trapped in indecision, but he had already fallen prey to her, she might notice--for all he debated here was the order.