The nanosecond his neurons registered the words 'bless the food', Howard's hands were already clasped together, his head bowed down. Muscle memory slotted through the slit between his lips, already beginning his prayer with the standard -- bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, -- and as he was about to enunciate an expected Amen, Father Teague continued.
He was in the presence of the head of this congregation, after all. There would be flourishes, extra blessings, unto him, unto the farmers who had sown and reaped, the miller and the grocer, and the rest of the world needful of a slice of mercy, amidst rolling steam that scribbled a mental note for him to repay this kindness somehow, some way.
A vampire and a priest, blessing the food and praying for world peace. A start of a joke somewhere, surely.
"Surely you've heard worse. All parishes have their own sets of characters. My being the least of its colourful constituents, I say in confidence," he laughed softly, taking a modest portion of the pie into his mouth. He wished and wished and wished to be able to taste it. Perhaps placebos do work. It was heavenly.
"'Marry' is the polite way to put it, Father, I'm sure you know." Howard shrugged, more pie coming down his gullet, though he was careful to pace himself, taking breaks with small sips of tea, to also be polite. "I don't personally know any woman of the sea who suffered that fate, but I could build an army of women who would say they feel as if they are. Matrimonies are holy, but not the average men." He snorted. "Perhaps I'm biased; our dad left us high and dry one day. We thought he'd perished at sea, but his boat was dry on the shore. The hunger begins then."
Abject poverty, even in the embrace of a much kinder age back then. He remembered the pain, knotting in his stomach, in the dead of winter. He remembered how angry he was.
"Anyone can marry before God if their intention is true." Not holy, not good, but true. "Long as they feel love, I suppose, I'm sure He's alright with it," Howard pointed at the cross with his shoulder. "First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verse thirteen. Faith, hope and love remain, the greatest is love, yes? Our Lord would not have granted us the greatest of all feelings for us to suffer it. He would have wanted us to relish it, be good in it." The echoes of Mr Sealey's voice shiver on his tongue. Howard believed in it truly. "Why, did you not believe it so? Would you tell me how you feel?"
The implication that Jackie was waiting for him put the fear of everything in the black of his eyes, and he laughed nervously, shaking his head.
"No, no, I cannot accept Jackie, or any aspiring merfolk's wish to be married to me," a troll and a mermaid! Imagine a pair worse suited! "I cannot marry. I can't promise my spouse that they'll be safe. Look where I've washed up," nearly twenty years back in time, "having no clue what had happened, if it was an attempt at my life. I will not subject my love to such torture. I don't want to ever see my mother's hopeful eyes for the return of their husband in anyone's eyes, ever, ever. I no longer hate my father for leaving, he must have had his reasons, but forgiveness will not wipe the hurt my mother felt in his absence."