Rex growled in annoyance as he adjusted his tie. "Too damn fancy," he muttered. He hated formality with a fiery, burning passion that made a bonfire look like a spark. But he kept his irritation in check, thinking about what Crow had taught him. Father O'Shea grinned at him.
"C'mon, every girl's crazy for a sharp-dressed man," he teased.
"Thanks, ZZ Top. When did you shave your beard?" O'Shae chuckled.
"Don't knock the classics, kid." Rex rolled his eyes.
"You know I love classic rock."
"And rap, and pop, and Celtic..." O'Shae stopped the car. "There it is. Got your Sweetheart?"
Rex nodded. "In the trunk," he answered, stepping out. "Thank God for Exorcists. How else could I walk in broad daylight with a weapon like this?"
"You could be an eccentric history professor."
"Bite me."