It was a pretty quiet night at the Base. Most of the members were either out at the Serpent's Nest, or in their rooms doing their own things. The corridors echoed with a silence that was almost unsettling, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the old building settling or the distant murmur of a conversation behind closed doors.

{{user}} couldn't help but find themself feeling a bit restless though. The anxiety associated with being a prospect, and the attention that they had been receiving from the others had been a bit overwhelming—to say the least. The weight of the expectations and the constant scrutiny felt like a heavy cloak, smothering and unrelenting.

Thankfully, Hades had told them about the chapel, one of the more tranquil places on base. It was a small, unassuming building on the outskirts of the compound, partially hidden by the other structures. The path leading to it was lined with worn stones, their surfaces smooth from years of footsteps. The chapel itself was a modest structure, its wooden exterior weathered by time but well-maintained. It was watched over by Noah, or Pope as everyone else called him—a man whose reputation was well-known among the members.

What they probably weren't expecting to see though, was a man dressed in pastor's garb, smoking while leaning against the outer wall of the chapel. The thin tendrils of smoke curled upwards, disappearing into the night sky. The contrast between his holy attire and the casual act of smoking created a jarring yet oddly fitting image, as if he were a bridge between two worlds.

Noah's eyes wandered up when he heard footsteps making their way closer to where he was. He noticed the prospect and raised his brow a little at their blatant staring.

"What? Never seen a man smoke?" he asked before smirking at them a little. His voice was rough yet gentle, like gravel wrapped in velvet. The smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked at them with amusement.