Today is 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗗𝗮𝘆, but these chaRActers obviously haven't gotten the memo. Whether washing in the usual manner (William Farrow, Lorenzo Quart, Daniel Miller), having a romp in the rain (Mikhail Astrov), or being soaked, sprayed, doused, or dunked in some not-so-pleasant ways (Lucas North, John Porter, Heinz Kruger, Guy of Gisborne), they obviously prefer to fly solo. More's the pity. At least with the first four. I'll pass on enduring water torture, being hosed down in a prison yard, caught in a flooding submersible, or nearly drowned by my archenemy, thanks very much!
Summary: A year after the events in ”Penance”, Father Quart finds himself once again facing the woman he can’t erase from his memory. The emotional struggle takes a new path when another threat appears and he learns what lurks in the depths of his character.
Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, unprotected intercourse & emotional suffering.
A/N: Father Quart’s POV. ”Seven” is the sequel to my first fic about Father Quart. You can read ”Penance” here.
@lathalea & @laurfilijames I’m so grateful for all your feedback!! ❤️❤️❤️
Pride
Sundays, he thought, are always equally exciting and energy-draining. Those were the days where he, like a steady shepherd, herded his own motley flock of sinners, carefully guiding them through his sermon, joining them in prayers and singing praise to The Lord. As His servant he often received other people's respect and admiration. More often than he could count did he get the upper hand simply by wearing the clergy collar. It gave him power, status and attention. People rarely disputed his opinions and as a proud disciple of God and The Holy Father, he never questioned the benefits of his position.
He especially loved Sundays and he guarded his morning routine on this precious day. For years it has always been the same. He woke up early, went for a run to clear his head and fuel his strong body with the energy that always followed, then enjoyed a good breakfast and left for church. Father Quart believed in taking care of the body he was given. He needed strength, both physically and mentaly for doing what he was doing. Yes, his calling overpowered his doubts constantly, but he was not totally unaffected by influences. Like her.
That woman, whose scent he spent so many nights trying to forget, but only had to close his eyes to summon. Memories of her faint perfume always made his heart beat faster and he sighed heavily when he forced his eyes open. He didn’t want to remember how soft her skin felt under his fingers when he trailed the curves of her body. Or how her smile almost crushed his final post of defense the last time they met. Which was also the last time he saw her smile.
She would often come to mass, almost every Sunday, and she would hide in the back pews. Always with her head lowered as if in worshipful prayer but he knew better; she didn’t want to look at him. She was there for his blessings, nothing more. The first time her eyes accidentally fell on him, they held the look of a frightened and hurt animal, and it disturbed him greatly. He had thought she would come seeking him out again long ago and when she didn't his ego took a hit, although he would deny it until his last breath. But he believed she would eventually come knocking on his door, begging him. He just needed to be patient.
”It’s been over a year,” he thought as he draped himself in the purple chasuble. ”She is strong.”
Envy
The heavy scent of wax filled his nostrils when he slowly walked up to the altar. Celebrating advent called for even more beautifully handcrafted candles than usual and their flames burned steadily in the candelabras. The pews were filled to the last seat and chairs had been brought out to support the larger gathering. Father Quart reached his destination, crossed himself and worshipfully kissed the altar. This was his moment.
As he turned to the waiting audience his eyes fell on the red dress tightly hugging the body seated in the front pew. Unable to avert his gaze, he followed the familiar curves and continued over the exposed neck, the soft lips and finally he met her eyes. She stared back at him and for a second he forgot what he was doing. She was there, right in front of him. And she looked gorgeous. With a deep breath he forced himself to break eye contact and regain control of himself and the situation. He was pleased. She was no longer hiding in the back. Something had changed and he was certain that she wanted him to notice her. And he sure did.
It was not until he was halfway through his sermon that he noticed the discrete move from the man seated next to her. The man leaned into her, the most perfect cut ruby Father Quart had ever seen and he could clearly see his lips moving. She turned to him and smiled. A warm smile. Not a smile you give a stranger you meet once in church, but a knowing and familiar smile. The realization made him accidentally skip a whole paragraph in his sermon. She knew this man. And her smile told him all he needed to know. For he had seen that smile on her face before.
A cold unpleasant feeling crawled over his neck, down his chest and with a sharp punch it penetrated his lonely heart. The bitter taste of envy filled his mouth. He could not afford to get distracted so he purposefully moved away as far from her as he could and continued. When it was time for him to introduce today's guest, the vocal prodigy he had the pleasure to hear singing just weeks ago, he glanced at her again. She looked calm, happy…and breathtaking. Father Quart took a seat just as the first tones of ”O Holy Night” tentatively seeped from the organ.
O Holy Night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
The young man’s voice was strong but surprisingly tender and filled the church with its warm embrace. From his seat Father Quart could look right at her without the risk of losing track. She watched the singer intensively and moved her lips as if she was singing along. Her lips. He had tried to forget how they felt but here he was, admiring them and letting the memories flood him. As the singer refilled his lungs to deliver the well known chorus, she suddenly looked him right in the eyes.
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
The words filled him with a new meaning and a bolt of heat spread in his core. He held her gaze steadily, fully aware that someone might see it, but the thrill that caused his skin to tingle made it worth the risk. She bit down on her lower lip and the move made him raise a questioning eyebrow. A small smile spread over her alluring lips as she lowered her gaze.
Beside her the man leaned in again and the blush that followed on her cheeks made Father Quart clench his fist. What did he say to her in order to get that reaction? He recognized him as one of those who weren’t regulars but visited church often enough to be remembered. What was she doing with that man? The way this man looked at his ruby made the blood boil in his veins. But she was not his to claim, he reminded himself. He looked at the man again and tried to see him through her eyes. He was a decent looking guy with blond hair that he casually drew his hand through. He wore a stubble that made him look rougher and he had mischievous eyes. Father Quart guessed the man was in his forties.
The music came to an end and as the last tones faded it was time for him to stand up and continue. He took a deep breath, ordered his brain to focus on the task at hand and without further mistakes he finished the sermon.
After giving The Dismissal, Father Quart stayed and thanked some of the most frequent visitors and as the pews started to empty he watched people gather their belongings and leave. The red dress was a sharp contrast and he could not resist the sight of her. So he watched her leave, secretly admiring the view. The bitterness hit him hard when he saw the blond man walking beside her. He had no doubts, they left together and this man was very likely the one who kept her warm during the cold nights.
Sloth
”Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been over two years since my last confession.” The hesitating voice belonged to a man he had not heard before, but something in his tone made Father Quart tense. When he was younger, during his first years of service, he was sometimes shocked by people's confessions. Now he had heard it all, more times than he could count. It allowed him to put his own emotions aside and only focus on the person waiting on the other side of the partition. ”I’m listening.” He simply offered.
The man began to tell him how he met a wonderful, lively woman here in church of all places. How they went for a coffee and became friends. Friends evolved to lovers and he let Father Quart understand that she made him feel alive. There was only one problem. His wife. He lived a very comfortable life. His wife came from a wealthy family, and as long as they were married he would benefit from it and he was not willing to give up the luxury he now took for granted. She had no interest in going to church since she didn’t share his faith. So for him, it was the perfect excuse to get away from home. Father Quart was silent. The man before him needed no help in confessing his sins.
”Last Sunday we came here together. It was wrong, but we both wanted to participate. She wore a stunning red dress and I’m sorry Father, but all I could think of during the sermon was ripping it off her body.” He went silent.
The red dress. Father Quart felt the blood leave his face. It could only mean one thing. His ruby. Without even noticing he clenched his fist so hard his well-kept nails left marks in his palm.
”This woman you speak of, does she know? About your wife?” His voice sounded more stern than he intended.
”No,” the man answered frankly, ”I told her I’m single.”
Father Quart fought the adrenaline rushing through his body. He tried to ignore the sudden urge to throw the man out of the confessional. This was part of his profession, but with only a few words, this stranger had made it very personal. A well sealed feeling struggled in his chest, fighting for freedom and igniting the slumbering temper that he spent years to control. It was not until the door to the confessional closed he allowed the roaring anger to consume him.
Wrath
Sleep wouldn’t come easily that night. He couldn’t stop thinking of the words uttered to him during that piece of shit’s confession. Why didn’t she see him for what he was? An unfaithful husband cheating on his wife, too lazy to leave her and start over. And with the one woman Father Quart could not stop thinking of. He knew he was not thinking rationally now, this was not the way of the Lord. But he could not help it. His emotions raged on the inside, clouded his judgment and mixed with feelings of loneliness that ate at him from inside.
Why was she so blind? The walls in his bedroom seemed to close in on him. Why had she come to church dressed like that? To tease him, when she knew she had a lover by her side? The thought hurt him more than anything else. Had she enjoyed the looks he gave her? Was it part of a game? To make him suffer? Was it her revenge? The word darkened his thoughts.
Penance. A voice in his head seductively whispered. That’s what she needs. Punishment.
The memories of her soft skin reddened by his hand filled his vision. She had liked it back then. He was not sure she would so willingly let him punish her now.
Gluttony
He was surrounded by darkness. Black as the sea during a cold winter night. But far away he could see a small light, it shone brightly and welcomely, and the air around him was filled with a comforting smell of flowers. He walked against the light without even the slightest hesitation, for she was calling him like a siren. He knew he was walking to his doom but it didn’t matter to him. When he stepped into the calming light he finally saw her. She was dressed in a thin white dress and when he got closer the soft fabric fell to the floor, revealing her naked body. Her hair framed her beautiful face and her eyes gleamed in the warm light.
“Welcome Father,” she said. “Please accept my body as a token of my devotion.” She placed her hand on his chest and he realized he was also naked. And above all other things, he was starving. He watched her as she confidently walked across the floor to the big oak table set for two.
“You must be hungry,” she looked at him and licked her red lips, “would you like something to eat?” The way she said it sounded sinful to him, like she meant something else. And yet her lips formed an innocent smile that sparked the flame in him. In a few hasty steps he was in front of her, pulling her into her arms and kissing her deeply.
“Yes, I want you.” he panted as he broke the kiss.
“I’m all yours,” she answered with an inviting tone. “Please… devour me.”
He crashed against her plump lips again, drawing the soft music of her moans into his own mouth. Her sounds gave him life and they were essential for his survival, he concluded. She pushed her warm body against his and the feeling of her silky skin made him groan. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her waist when he lifted her up on the table. Her thighs parted with the help of his body, preventing her from closing her legs. He moved his hands to her thighs and with a demanding grip he pushed her legs further apart. A gasp slipped from her lips and he knew she was lost. He placed a hand on her chest and the other on her back, supporting her as he pushed her down against the wooden surface
“Lie down for me, I will indeed devour you.”
Out of a thousand women, he thought, he could easily pick her scent. No one could smell as alluring as she did when she was aroused. The scent was all over her delicate skin, causing his head to spin and teasing his appetite, making him a slave of his own hunger. He was a starving man and she tasted like the finest, sweet honey.
When the sound of his high pitched alarm suddenly tore her from him and her taste lingered on his lips, Father Quart opened his eyes and for the first time in ages he cursed himself for his mind's obsession.
Greed
She had felt so incredibly real. Her warm skin under his hands, those longing lips and the way he had savored her body. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself just a few more minutes with the memories. It was plain torture, he knew that, but he needed to be with her. Minutes turned to an hour in the blink of an eye and when he no longer could ignore his duties, he rose from the sweaty bed sheets and went to take a cold shower. As the icy water poured down his back, his mind became clearer and the throbbing feeling in his lower body eventually vanished. Only then did he turn on the heated water and proceeded to wash himself.
Time was crucial, so he dressed quickly and when he had snapped the collar in place, he looked in the mirror. He let out a sigh of relief, seeing no visual evidence of his lack of sleep or the sinful dream that caused him to make a mess out of his bed.
For the first time in years he had skipped his morning run. He thought of the meaning of this during his brisk walk to church. The cold weather held the city in its tight grip and white smoke surrounded him with every breath he took. On this particular day he had chosen her over his routine. It felt strange to him, like he had given something of himself that he was not prepared to sacrifice. An unexpected possessive feeling erupted in his chest when his mind drifted to the confession he had heard the previous day.
”She is not his, she belongs to me” he murmured darkly to himself as he walked up the steps and entered church.
A few hours later the great line of the faithfuls seemed longer than usual as they came up for communion, an endless stream of friendly faces bowing respectfully and mumbling their “Amen” when receiving the Eucharist. Father Quart felt a tingling sensation in his body, like a foreboding that something important was about to come and when he expanded his vision to include more than just the person standing right in front of him, he saw her waiting patiently for her turn. His heart picked up speed as she drew closer with a timid expression on her beautiful face. Unable to control his treacherous self, a single thought crossed his mind.
”I’ll pay the price for her divine body with my soul, if necessary.”
Her eyes shone with a warm light as he purposefully presented her with the Body of Christ. He held her gaze steadily and when she parted her lips he carefully placed the wafer on her tongue. A shiver went down his spine. How he wanted to run his fingers over her soft lips in that moment, bending down and catching her lower lip between his teeth. Pulling it until she moaned her seductive sounds that could only be stopped by him covering her mouth with his. He knew perfectly well how wrong his thoughts were but he could not prevent himself from doing what he did next.
“I must speak to you.” he murmured and searched her eyes for a sign that she heard and accepted what he said. A small nod and her “Amen” followed and he let out a sigh. He was about to fall even deeper into this bottomless sea of sins and the realization only increased the uncomfortable feeling of his damp shirt clinging to his body under the layers of heavy fabrics.
Communion service came to an end and while some visitors stayed for a silent prayer, others stood up and left. He positioned himself in a way that she could clearly see him but ensured he was far enough away from anyone with a taste for eavesdropping.
After what felt like an eternity she finally approached him.
“Father,” she greeted him respectfully and a storm of emotions welled over him. He was pleased that she acknowledged and greeted him as a priest, but he longed for her to look at him as the man she knew he was under his protective chasuble.
“Y/N,” he answered softly, desperately controlling his voice to not rush into what he needed to say. He shifted on his feet, feeling like a soldier stepping into unknown terrain, where every step can mean the end of life. She stood still and waited silently, clearly expecting him to speak first, not wanting to make this easy for him.
“How are you?" he asked in an attempt to settle the nerves that felt like they were crawling on the outside of his skin, creating painful patterns all over his body.
“I’m well, thank you for asking, Father.” Her voice was so even, and she gave him nothing in return.
He took a deep breath. There was no right way of saying what he had on his mind. Whatever he said would reveal that he broke his vow and in addition went against the church and the sacred trust given during confession.
“Y/N, are you happy?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “I know you are seeing someone, I saw you. Do you trust him?”
“My personal life is no longer your business.” Her eyes shifted and in them he saw a shadow of pain.
“Do you trust him, Y/N?” he repeated. His voice sounded unnecessarily stern and he regretted it the second the words were out. But there was no turning back now, only forward mattered.
“Yes, of course I trust him.” Something in her voice made him pause. Was that a hint of disbelief?
”You must believe me when I say that he is not the same man that he pretends to be.” He felt frustration infiltrating his voice, making it harsh.
”I fail to see why this is any of your concern,” she answered coldly and stared back at him. A small trembling in her lower lip made him hold back and swallow the rest of his words. ”This is enough,” his brain firmly stated, ”don’t push further, not now.”
”I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Somehow he succeeded in softening his voice, and gave her a faint smile.
“A little late for that,” she murmured and let her gaze wander away from him. He could see her take a deep breath to steady herself. “I need to go now.”
Something unspoken hung in the air when she quickly left and he listened to her fast steps gently echoing as she walked away from him. He let out a heavy sigh. Once again he had acted out of impulse, a different side of his character revealing itself and now it was up to her to trust him or throw away what he had just said.
Lust
The following week came to be the longest in Father Quart’s life. Not only did he spend an enormous amount of time thinking of different scenarios where she was the center of his attention, but he also developed a problem with insomnia. And when he did manage to sleep, his dreams proved to be more sufferable than anything. Sometimes she was in his arms, but more often he watched her from afar together with that man, laughing with her eyes filled with love. It was tourture, but there was no way he could stop it. Prayers did nothing to ease his mind and when another Sunday morning finally came, he questioned himself. Had he done the right thing? Was this his punishment for breaking the confidence given to him?
He needed to speak to her again as soon as possible, he thought as he left his office and pulled on his mask of duty, hiding all emotions behind it to display only the calmness suited for a man of the Church. It was time to work.
Father Quart closed the apartment door behind him upon returning home, and the facade he held up the whole day cracked like a thin layer of ice under a heavy boot. He felt angry, hurt, betrayed, but above all disappointed with himself for allowing these feelings to run freely through his usually controlled mind. She didn’t come. For the last year she had been there every Sunday, but today she was not. His heart battled in his chest and eventually he could not keep his thoughts from going in a devastating direction. She was with him. Jealousy crashed over him and he slammed his fist into the wall. The pain from the impact traveled all the way up to his shoulder, but it felt good. The reflection in the mirror caught his attention. He looked nothing like himself. His eyes were black and they reminded him of the pond in the dark forest he was afraid of as a child. ”If it wasn’t for the collar…” he thought as he pulled the white piece out, but a silent knock on his door interrupted him. He cursed for the second time that day, placed the collar on the side table and took a deep breath to control himself before opening the door.
”Y/N,” he gasped, uncertain if this was another trick by his diabolic brain. He blinked. She didn’t disappear in a cloud of smoke, she still stood in front of him. Beautiful as the dawn with her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.
”Hi,” she said tentatively. When he didn’t respond a nervous smile crossed her lips. ”Maybe this was a terrible idea. Forgive me Father, I should not have come here.” She turned to leave and finally his brain recovered from the shock.
”Please,” he said in a hurried voice, ”come inside.”
When she walked past him and he closed the door behind her, he felt his hand tremble. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and watched him. He hoped that she didn’t see that same person who just seconds ago glared back at him in the mirror.
“You were right,” she said slowly, “I didn’t want to see it, but deep inside I knew something wasn’t right. Thank you, for making me see things clearer.” He nodded silently.
”I tried to move on. Tried to forget about what happened between us.” Her voice sounded shaky but she continued. ”I even tried to forget your name…Lorenzo.” The way his name sounded coming from her mouth made him close the distance between them. He lifted his hand and carefully stroked her chin and let his thumb follow the curve of her lips.
”Say it again,” he begged with his voice filled with longing. Hope rose in her eyes as she whispered his name again. It sounded honest, pure and seductive. She leaned into his hand and her soft skin against his fingers made his heart skip a beat.
”I can’t stop thinking of you.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. She looked back at him with moist eyes and he felt his heart ache for her. He let his hand travel to the back of her neck and then he bent down to kiss her. Her lips tasted just as sweet as he remembered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her close to him with a groan. The sweet noise she made when he unwrapped her scarf only fueled his needs and he pressed his lips against her now exposed neck. Her scent almost knocked him over as he inhaled the wonderful combination of her perfume and warm skin. She didn’t wait for him as she pulled off her jacket and left it on the floor. He drew a hoarse moan from her as he sunk his teeth into her neck and he smiled against her wet skin. She still liked his rough treatment. Without a word he lifted her up, held her close to his chest and as he carried her, he enjoyed the warmth that spread deep inside him. He put her down on the soft carpet in his bedroom and kissed her tenderly.
“I never thought I would see you here again.”
“I never really gave up hope on you. Does it make me… bad?”
“Yes,” he gave her a sly smile, “it makes you a very bad girl”
That lovely blush on her cheeks was back, how he had longed to see her looking like that. Looking at him like that. He took her wrist in a firm grip and kissed the smooth skin on the inside. Then he gently placed her hand over his shirt’s hidden buttons. He could see the hesitating look in her eyes and squeezed her hand.
“It’s ok. Do it.”
“Are you sure?” She whispered. He simply nodded and let his eyes speak to her in their own way. She swallowed hard and he smiled encouragingly at the unfamiliar feeling of someone else's fingers opening the buttons. With each button her touch grew bolder and when the shirt was finally open, she pulled it from his body like she was uncovering a great statue for the exhibition of the century. He felt relieved. She wasn’t allowed to touch his collar, but to him, this was a monumental step. He reached for her and tugged at her top, lifted it over her head and tossed it on his chair. Her pants followed along with the rest of the fabric on her body. With a determined smile she returned the favor and as a silent appreciation he covered her lips with his and his tongue greedly asked her to dance with him again.
He gasped for air when he pulled her down on the bed and skillfully positioned himself under her. When she straddled his body and leaned forward over him, a lock of hair fell down over her face. She looked absolutely divine like this, he thought happily. Her pupils widened by the feeling of his hardness against her and she gave a moan when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her chest hard against his. She tried to move, but he held her in place.
“You are so eager and I love that. Believe me, I want this just as bad as you.” he rasped in her ear. He let his hands caress her lower back and she moaned when his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her behind. Slowly he ran a finger over her slickness and she shivered against him. She was so responsive to his touch and it felt heavenly to hold her naked body again. He tilted his hips and the small movement made her plead in a sinful tone that caused his lower body to throb, just as it had done that morning. Only this time he didn’t need to close his eyes to remember her. She was right there, warm, slick and needy. He could feel her arousal on his own skin and when his fingers clasped on either side of her waist and held her tantalizingly close to what she seemed too long for, she whined desperately. How he loved that sound; it was feral, honest and destroyed every possibility of self control. With a throaty groan he pulled her down over him and she hissed. He could feel how he stretched her and gave her a moment to adjust.
“Lorenzo,” she purred, “the things I would let you do to me…” He held her waist tightly and supported her when she shifted teasingly. Her words sparked his dark hunger and he grinned at her. The way she moved her hips made him see stars and when she found her sensual rhythm, he could only pray that he would last long enough.
Her body moved with resolute elegance and soon a thin layer of sweat made her glitter in the warm light from the lamp on his nightstand. He watched her beautiful expressive eyes as she drove both of them closer to revelation. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and her panting became shorter, harder and when she closed her eyes he could feel her approaching climax.
”Y/N,” he demanded, ”look at me, I want to see what you feel. Show me!” She met his gaze and with a cry she unleashed the untamed fire inside her. When she finally clenched around him he followed her, giving her everything he had to give and as her exhausted body collapsed on top of him, he hugged her affectionately. She buried her face against the side of his neck and gave his stubble a soft kiss. It felt so good, so right to have her snuggle him and it filled his heart with a new type of desire. When she eventually came to rest beside him he pulled his duvet over both of them and protectively held her close. The moment felt loaded, they both seemed to recall that tearing moment a year ago where she left him with tears running down her still flushed cheeks. He closed his eyes and savored the moment. And waited.
”What happens now?” Her voice held a small tremble but she seemed determined to get an answer to the, until now, unspoken question.
”I don’t know,” he answered honestly. She stiffened in his arms and he could feel her taking a deep breath. Inside his chest, his heart roared at him. He sighed but tightened his hold of her. ”I don’t have all the answers. But I care for you, deeply. More than I’m allowed to.”
When he heard her sob quietly he placed a tender kiss on her forehead and stroked her hair. He wanted her to feel safe. To trust him, even if he didn’t trust himself. Hoping that she would understand what he was trying to say, he softly murmured, ”There must be a way.”
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Principal photography for 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗻 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗲 concluded 4 yrs ago this month. Starring Richard as gun-toting Vatican operative Fr Lorenzo Quart, the film was shown in a very limited number of theaters in most locations outside Spain, instead going straight to vod/dvd. Critics were not kind (though audiences rated it a bit higher), but was that bc the film failed as a thriller, or was TMFR overshadowed by concurrent news about the release of Geneva? Inquiring minds want to know. 🤔
As many 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲𝘀 as I've posted over the years, would it surprise you to know that only four of Richard's chaRActers have made a habit of appearing in sunglasses?! Here they are, keeping those baby blues shaded from the sun's harsh glare: John Porter, Strike Back; Daniel Miller, Berlin Station, Claude Becker, Ocean's 8; Lorenzo Quart, The Man From Rome. 😎
Clockwise from left: Dr Matthew Nolan sprints through Heathrow trying to escape extradition to Beijing where he'll face murder charges (Red Eye e1); Lucas North on the run with Dean Mitchell, a teenager who witnesses an assassination, steals a military weapon and hides from MI6 (Spooks s7e6); Father Lorenzo Quart chases a couple of hired thugs who broke into his hotel room (The Man From Rome).
