✞[ IX. ]✞ Station of the Cross

[sanctus_cineris]

 [ † ] It takes a wide sweep of the small screen before a sharp 'clack' sound reveals Anderson semi-crouched upon the floor, examining the remainder of a charred door, which he'd just removed from its hinges and had laying on its side. Moving around to the edge of the blackened foyer he stops, picks up the commlink, and clicks a button, thumb sliding across a soot-streaked cheek. [ † ] 

O'....Uhm. 

[ † ] He bows his head humbly, training his gaze on the church's floor for a moment as though lost in thought, brow fixed in concentration. [ † ]

Ah woul' nae ask ef et was nae fer mae brethren's sake, boot tae th' scientists o' thaes place...Ah humbly beseech ye tae bestow upon Archbishop Enrico Maxwell wit'  another set o' clerical vestments, proper ahn true.

Ah woul' request thaet, ahn noothin' moore.

He'd be verieh grateful.

Thank ye.

[ † ]  Brushing a hand down his dusty cassock he offers a small smile before the broadcast times out, fading to black. [ † ]