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A chill colder than what you’ve felt in the deepest parts of the ocean, or even going up against the Khanate, travels all the way down the length of your spine. And from the way Jean’s face pales, it seems that the feeling’s mutual…
>>Line Break
“…through Christ our Lord, amen,” finishes Caroline.
“Amen,” the rest of the table choruses. But she isn’t done.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for the gift of friendship-”
You and Jean wince.
“-and for the gift of forgiveness and wisdom.”
You cough violently, even as Jean wheezes. Tom looks more confused than anything else, but the seamstress continues on, utterly uninterrupted.
“Please give us the strength and patience to deal with those who would test our limits.”
Just before prayers and intentions becomes a passive-aggressive snipe, Caroline mentions family friends, loved ones and the people of Babylonia. Heathens though some of them are, it is her hope that more of the Flooded World would see the light and walk willingly into the arms of the Church. To be precise, Megiddan Catholicism.
“We also thank you for the safekeeping of Sinleq, and ask for Your intercession for the healing and recovery of all of the <span class="mu-i">Calypso’s</span> injured crew. In Christ, our Lord…”
“…amen,” Tom and Jean finish.
“Amen,” you hastily add. It’s been more than a hot moment since you said grace before eating.
“Mom’s scary tonight,” notes Tom, gnawing on a malformed baby carrot. The boy coughs, shivering as he reaches for another helping of fish.
You chuckle nervously, reaching for the peas. Bad luck that they’re in front of Caroline, who isn’t inclined to pass them to you, and is doing her best to glare holes in you and her husband. “Yeah, well, I don’t know why she is. We didn’t wreck the veranda.”
Jean nods in agreement. “You’ll understand when you grow older, son.”
“I would hope not,” interjects Caroline, cutting into the fish just a <span class="mu-i">tad</span> bit too aggressively. “There’s better ways to resolve issues than by brawling it out.”
Nah, there really aren’t. Money on the ducat that you’d be willing to bet that beating the crap out of each other is a great way to become friends and/or restore them. Failing that, settling differences. You wouldn’t think to call Pierce a friend after the scuffle you had on the Duck, but you’d certainly say that the tab’s been settled.
The Cataclysm might’ve changed a few things, killed a few billion people and blasted civilization back hundreds of years. But that adage about friends becoming closer after beating each other bloody? You’ll vouch for it. That love tap’s already doing wonders.
Tom ponders that, then shrugs, digging into his meal with audible gusto.
“Chew your food!” scolds his mother, briefly directing her ire towards Tom, “No one’s going to take your fish away from you.”
“But, mom, the nanites are hungry!”
(cont.)
