Faolan was also eyeing the landscape with interest as they walked through town, but this was more for memorizing the terrain than anything else. He did notice that he had been right before in his assessment of American architecture, it took up more land than air, which was a little disappointing to him. He hoped that somewhere had been left green and undisturbed, but only time would tell him that.

His eyes were assaulted with colors, his ears with more accents, and sometimes a different and extremely interesting language that sounded nothing like he had ever heard before, and his nose by scents of baked goods, tobacco, mud, wet wood, and alcohol. These smells were mostly normal, but there were hints and undercurrents of spice mixed in with everything. If it weren't for his preference for big, open spaces, New Orleans would seem to him like an interesting place to call home.

When they approached the church, Faolan was reminded of the ones back in Ireland. Small, dumpy thing it was, could maybe hold a hundred at most. Nothing lie the obnoxious things they called "cathedrals" in the city. He preferred them this way, if he preferred them at all.

They entered the house, and Faolan nearly had to duck to get inside. The home was small, but modest, and smelled strongly of wet wood and incense, which was not an entirely unpleasant combination. He seated himself across from Lucien as the priest scurried off, and glanced about, subconsciously sniffing the air. He could smell dinner from here, something spicy and thick...and fishy.

[color=a36209]"You're not wrong. It's definitely different...but, also the same."[/color] He didn't really know how to describe it. He felt both comfortable and anxious, which was not a combination he was used to. [color=a36209]"Hope you like seafood."[/color] He said, as he set his bag on the floor at his feet.