Needless to say, McKinley is a little discombobulated. He hadn't thought it prudent to resist the big vamps, though to be honest his curiosity was piqued by the prospect of meeting Claire Pullman-- if she's the Claire who's responsible for the blood drives, that is-- but even if she is, he doesn't understand what she'd possibly want with him, and he's not sure how far to trust the intentions of someone who'll stage a kidnapping just for an audience.
He is very surprised indeed to find that he recognizes her.
She drums her fingers on the desk briefly. Motioning, she has the two men outside the door shut it. "A side effect of no longer feeling comfortable in my own city."
"The pope promises people heaven if they obey God's devine will. He says, 'if you do this, you'll be safe not now, but later.' Charles Manson didn't need to make people feel safe, he needed to convince them that they couldn't live without him. He needed to scare people."
He is very surprised indeed to find that he recognizes her.
"Ah ..."
Blinks.
"Claire Pullman, I presume?"
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"I don't believe we formally met."
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"No," he agrees.
"I don't believe we did."
Is this just ... how they roll in Chicago, or what?
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Then her lips twist. "Father I don't bite vampires. That'd just be redundant."
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Well, you do abduct them.
"I suppose I'm relieved, then."
He's not.
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"I'm Claire Pullman, which would have been more polite and standard if you'd obey social niceties."
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It seems best to, all things consideed-- Claire does, after all, have a lot of rather impressively-muscled people at her command.
"Well, you certainly held up your end, Ms. Pullman."
If there is sarcasm, it is difficult to detect. He might just be referring to the handshake, or lack thereof.
"Incidentally, I'm Father McKinley."
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"I know exactly who you are, Father."
There's a brief pause and she appears to be choosing her words.
"I wanted to apologize for how our last meeting went."
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Knows exactly who he is, does she?
"I ... see," he says, neutral.
"And you felt that needed to be done here?"
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She drums her fingers on the desk briefly. Motioning, she has the two men outside the door shut it. "A side effect of no longer feeling comfortable in my own city."
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My city, she says. Also comfortable.
Maybe she means safe.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, and he is. "These days, Chicago seems to be an uncomfortable place-- or more uncomfortable than it was."
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"Once this was the place that everyone wanted to come because we could promise safety."
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That has been what they've said, about this place.
"Safety is a difficult thing to promise anyone," he says. "Even at the best of times."
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Claire looks at him, expectantly.
She's wearing a button up shirt, buttoned all but the top, and her hair is tied in an intricate knot at the base of her neck.
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So they're here to tell Catholic jokes?
"I'd hazard that there's more than one," he says.
"But please; enlighten me."
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"The pope promises people heaven if they obey God's devine will. He says, 'if you do this, you'll be safe not now, but later.' Charles Manson didn't need to make people feel safe, he needed to convince them that they couldn't live without him. He needed to scare people."
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