“I give religious guidance, not seek it. I’m a priest; it’s what I do.”

“You sound a bit proud, Father. Maybe you do need it. Her smile changed to show him she was kidding.

“Still learning,” he said. “What are you doing outside a bar? This is no place for a child.”

“Or a priest,” she reminded. “And I’m not a child.”

“But you don’t look twelve!”

“Oh, looks can be decieving, Father. I’m four hundred as of last Sunday.”

“H—how is thast possible?” This went completely against everything he had ever been taught!

“Well… I’ll tell you later.” He froze. Later? She drops that bomb on him and says she’ll tell him about it later?

“Okay then…” he cursed himself for being so passive. “I’m Carsten Brynner.”

“Fancy,” she replied. “I am Sandra.”

“Sandra? Helper of the people? Only thing you’ve helped me to is confusion.”

“There’s more to come. But confusion precedes deeper understanding. You’re the priest, you fill in the rest.”

“You’re a strange girl.”

“I try.”