"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"
Nile realizes the mistake as soon as she says it; this isn't sleep away camp where Carly Huggins confessed faking her mom's signature on a school permission slip. "Relatively harmless bad thing," she hastens to add, seeing the serious look that's come over everyone's faces. She doesn't need to hear about Andy owning slaves or Nicky being in a genocide again. "I once stole twenty dollars out of my mom's purse to go see a movie."
There's a beat, and then Andy says, "well, Joe once seduced a priest."
At that, Nile whips her head around. "You dated someone before Nicky? Or," she looks at Nicky, "after you guys met?" She's never heard more of the story beyond the bit they said during the night she first met them.
Booker cuts in. "Ah yes, Joe! His name was Father Pagano, correct?"
Joe blinks, and starts grinning. It's a bit unsettling. She hadn't realized he looked that way about everyone he was romantically entangled with, not just Nicky. And he must have been a bit of a player, to seduce a man of God. Nile rubs her cross absentmindedly.
"Ah, before Nicky. I was a merchant, and, spent a lot of time in–" here he pauses, looking at Nicky, "–Rome."
Nicky's fork thunks down onto his plate.
"Pagano the Roman priest," Joe continues. "He was handsome, or at least I think he was–the whites didn't bathe much in those days, you know."
"He was a bit thick in the head, though, wasn't he?" Booker asks. "'Padre Pirla,' they called him. 'Father fool.'"
Nicky curses a blue streak under his breath–she doesn't have to speak Italian to know that tone of voice. Nile feels a little guilty; he probably doesn't like talking about Joe's past loves.
So she turns to Booker. "What about you, big man?"
Booker winces. "Well, in my first life, money was not so carefully watermarked as it is now. . ."
"Ti amo," Joe offers hesitantly that night as he slides into bed. Nicky's body is radiating irritation, even as he lifts his arm for Joe to slip underneath.
"Do you love me," Nicky says tartly, "or do you love Father Pagano?"
The ugliness of their first meeting had been sanded down by time and love, and Nicky was very matter-of-fact about his participation in the Crusades. There wasn't much in their relationship they couldn't or didn't joke about. He'd thought it a harmless lie to tease their little sister, that he'd met his priest in Rome instead of on a bloody battlefield.
"I'm sorry, love," Joe says into the back of Nicky's neck. "If I made you feel bad–"
Nicky rolls over. The look on his face is one many a men have seen right before their death. "You made me Roman."
Joe snorts. "I could tell her I met him in Rome." Joe waits. "But he was actually from Pisa."
Now, the affronted look on Nicky's face just makes him look like a wet cat.
"I'll her the truth in the morning," Joe says.
"No!" Nicky nearly shouts; it's jarring after they've been whispering. He squirms a little, not meeting Joe's eyes. "I may have, ah, argued with Booker that Nile would figure out you're lying before I crack and tell her the truth. If you tell her on my behalf, I lose."
"You cannot tell her," Nicky emphasizes.
Joe brings up a hand to Nicky's face, stroking his cheek and staring into those endless eyes. "Then I'm telling her Pagano was a terrible cook."
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