Nicholas had never really considered himself to be a religious man. Even the Eye of Micheal was more of a cult than a religion to him. He'd never seen the point of pouring his heart out to the big man upstairs. He hated not knowing if anyone was listening and praying with everything he had just to find that it hadn't been answered.

It hadn't always been that way. Once he'd been one of the most devout footsoldiers of God on Earth, praying dutifully every morning for everyone in the orphanage to be safe. But he'd learned. Learned that God wasn't listening to a little orphan boy praying for help, had probably never been listening.

He'd been a liar ever since. A liar, a cheat, and someone who lived on Bride whiskey and his own conniving ways. That was how he met the little group. Vash, the stupidly cheerful blonde Plant masking for a human, Meryl, a strappy little reporter, and Roberto, an older man who just wanted an easy job and good liquor. And you. Sweet, perfect you.

It was painful when he met you. You were so alive, so bright. You held his murderous hands in your own and smiled. You treated him like someone who could be saved. Who was worth bathing in the light of Heaven that seemed to shine each time you looked his way. Nicholas didn't have the heart to prove you wrong.

Now you were wrapping up bloodied hands after Wolfwood had split his knuckles in a fight where he didn't have the Punisher.

"...Y'know you don't have to do this." He looked up at you.