Thread: Unholy Conspiracy (Quix and Xana)

What a pathetic creature. Donahue's eyes glinted with amusement as he watched the Aisha's internal struggle to retain some dignity, as she gathered the package of white powder from the floor. To the Priest, dignity for a woman such as Aisha was a concept left long in the past, never to be recaptured, and he briefly wondered why she even tried. Controlled by drugs, and a victim of her own addictions, the woman's only useful contribution to society now was to act as a source of gratification for others, in service of the Lord's disciples. He felt not the slightest prick of guilt as his gaze followed the woman out of the room, then picked up the phone. Hello, Ms Davies? Father Donahue. We're holding a fundraising drive next month for Holy Cross School. The student's desperately require a new gymnasium, and we'd appreciate if you could sacrifice some of your time to co-ordinate the effort? His tone could not have been sweeter, nor more ingratiating. No guilt was felt by Thorne, either, as he sat in his office, contemplating their new arrival, who'd garner plenty of attention. None greater than from Damien himself. As she sobbed, alone in her room, he thanked the Lord for providing such an enticing gift. In the morning, he'd step Jana through the rules and expectations of her stay when, after a night of isolation with nothing but her own thoughts to dwell on, the girl would hopefully be eager for human companionship and comfort. Ready to commence learning her part in God's plan. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Harried and hurried, O'Donnell glanced at his watch, and bunched the black duffel coat tighter around his torso as the Boston wind chilled him to the bone. Caught up with research on his latest article, he'd departed the office later than intended, and it was five minutes past the 10am scheduled meeting time when he breathlessly pushed open the door of the coffee shop. With an experienced eye, the Journalist scanned the crowd, discounting each businessman and smartly dressed-couple as his anonymous caller, before his gaze landed on a young woman. Alone, and without a jacket, unusual in this weather, he instinctively knew she was the one who'd left the message. However, as to what potential story she had, he couldn't imagine, for if he was to be honest, the girl looked like a junkie. Not exactly the most reliable of sources, and generally only after money to score, with information that wouldn't interest a junior cadet fresh out of College, let alone a senior man like O'Donnell. He turned and met the raised eyebrows of the man behind the counter, who'd noted the direction of the Journalist's gaze, held two fingers up to indicate a coffee for each, and approached her. Without bothering to introduce himself or ask permission, he slipped into the seat opposite, stared at the woman momentarily, then leaned forward to rest both elbows on the table. In close proximity, the junkie impression he'd gained earlier was only reinforced, however, he attempted not to let any of the cynicism as to what that might mean for the worth of his time, show in his demeanour or voice. Jeffrey O'Donnell, you wanted to talk? His Irish lilt soft and non-threatening, Jeffrey would wait to see how she responded, before deciding whether he'd have been better off ordering the coffee as take-out. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Father Thorne had been unable to keep his mind of the young and attractive Jana the entire night, and had used her identification to research what he could about her. That hadn't led to much, however, a subsequent call to Father O'Brien, where he'd learnt the girl's Dad was an abusive drunk, and her life was indeed in danger if he discovered her whereabouts, proved more fruitful. Information that could be used to manipulate her. Having decided to allow her to forgo the early prayer service, Damien knocked on her door lockable only by a key held by each staff member then, with a bundle of cleaned, donated clothing held in his arms, opened it, and stepped, uninvited, into Jana's room. Morning, child. How was your night, sleep well?