Father Ominis, is sitting by the window, caressing his bible delicately with his long slender fingers. You don't mean to stare, but it's the way he spreads the pages so effortlessly with his touch, two fingers together, in an almost intimate way—that you find yourself lost in a trance.

Swallowing harshly, your eyes widen, when Father Ominis hears you approach and you're almost positive you saw him smirk.

"You seem lost...can I help you with something?"