Meet The Father
There were few things that got under Adi's skin.
This was one of them.
He was one of the most powerful men in the world; if someone so much as looked at him wrong he could have their head in a basket, and knowing that allowed him to be more forgiving - he knew he didn't have to take anything. But right now, as he sat in a small dive bar on a corner he'd never been to before, the ice cubes in the glass of burbon he was currently sipping clinked against the edges not just because he was swirling the cup rather lazily in his hand. No one who didn't know him would have been able to tell. There was something relaxed in the way he stretched his free arm along the back of the chair beside him, and the way he didn't quite, but almost slouched in his seat. But Adrian felt like he was crawling under his skin, and his stomach was churning in a way that was not at all comfortable, and he thought would only be soothed by more alcohol.
The waiting was probably the worst.
Or at least, so he thought, until the door of the bar pushed open, and all of the people around him darted their eyes towards the door in surprise at the man who walked in.
Father Fontenot was the sort of man who could look at you, and make your skin crawl because you felt every single sin you'd ever committed; he was just that wholesome looking. It was the big blue eyes that could never have possibly committed a sin, and the salt and pepper hair that looked like almost everyone's grandfather. It was the softness of his features, and the way the wrinkles feathered his skin instead of crinkling it. Most of the bar patrons shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, reminded of their crackhead habits, or their boozing, or that time when they'd had a bit too much and hit their wives. Adrian just got still.
Terribly, terribly still.
"Adi, mon enfant, Que puis-je vous aider avec?" That same attitude carried over into his voice that sounded almost entirely concerned and comforting. Like a sweet old man, who was just worried about the status of his flock.
Adrian downed his drink before he bothered answering, and set the tumbler on the bar top with a heavy sort of noise before he drew his eyes up at the father. Adrian Bouges, the man who didn't have anything to fear, felt his heart freeze in his chest as those deep blue eyes settled on him, running over the refined features of his face that Adi so often used to his advantage.
"Adrian! What has happened to you?" The father reached up and ran his thumb along a cut that still lingered along Adrian's cheekbone, just under his eye. It was far better than it had been, even a week ago, but he wasn't going to tell the father that, or what had actually happened in that warehouse with Officer Ryan. Instead he just shrugged away the touch, suddenly and intensely motivated to move.
"It's nothing, Father." He replied, reaching up to rub the spot, not because it hurt, but because maybe he could wipe away the good father's touch. The touch alone enough to make him feel dirty. "That's not ... " Adi was never speechless. Adrian could talk, and talk, and talk. Adi could convince every single person he ever came across to listen to him, but right now he felt like maybe the words were caught in his throat. He wasn't going to let them stay that way. "That's not why I called you, Pere. I know you've already done so much for me," That was another thing that could get under Adrian's skin, that he'd been forced to call Father Fontenot to come to trial, because there was no one else that could serve as such a perfect character witness to get Diell out of prison; that maybe he might owe this man something, "But I have just one more favor, if you'll humor me."
They both knew, though, that the Father would humor him. They both knew that the Father really didn't have any choice but to humor him; he owed Adrian too much.
"Of course, my child."
Adrian smiled.
There was something magical about Adrian's smile. It was the sort of smile that made people melt almost entirely every time they saw it. It was the sort of smile that had people willing to believe him, even when he was lying through his teeth to them. It was the sort of smile that made everyone believe that there could not possibly be anything but genuine hope and joy behind it.
"Right this way, Father. I have a friend - he desperately needs your help with something. He didn't want to be seen doing it though - you'll understand, with the sort of friends I have now..." He let the father draw his on conclusions. Adrian was a mobster now, which meant that his friends were likely to be as well; not exactly the sort who were proud of themselves when they went to confession. Not exactly the sort who wanted to be seen in the company of a priest.
He pushed himself up from the chair, and led the Father out of the bar, and down the alley behind the bar, to a small little apartment hidden behind it, where Diell waited for them. It was one of their usual spots. Or at least, so Adrian'd been told. He didn't generally didn't come on these sorts of jobs, and left them all up to Diell, but tonight?
Tonight he wouldn't have missed for the world.
The apartment was rundown, and empty, but heavily sound-proofed. And it held all of the things that they might need, even to meet Diell's active imagination. He closed the door behind them, and locked it rather quickly, before looking around the apartment himself, and catching his fiancee's eyes, his grin spreading just slightly. No matter how his stomach churned, this would be worth every second of it.
The father, however, looked around, confused, and then set that too-pure gaze back on Adrian, his voice cracking in that feeble way that only the elderly can really manage, and his chin wobbling just slightly. "Adi, my child, what is this?"