As Faolan gathered his things to tuck them out of the way, he paused to listen to the conversation between Lucien and the priest. It sounded much like how a child would ask permission to have the craic outside. He had his back to the two men, and he grimaced at Father Cyril explained his hesitance. With each passing day, the Irishmen felt more and more sorry for Lucien. He was clearly not the type to be defiant, and if he wasn't going to press the issue, someone should do it for him.

Faolan turned around, and started speaking before his brain could convince him to keep quiet, [color=a36209]"Ah, father, I don't mind if Lucien tags along with me. Show him around, so he can get a lay of the land."[/color] He glanced at Lucien, then looked around the small home, [color=a36209]"Besides, isn't it just more worrisome to leave him alone here then have a walk about with me?"[/color] He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking more light-hearted than usual. No one could deny Faolan's physical presence would draw any unwanted or unsavory attention. Even if it did, he knew what to do. On top of that, there was no way that the Irishman could lose Lucien in a crowd. All he'd have to do is follow the scent of pure air until he found him again, and that smell was in short supply in the city.

[color=a36209]"I'll have him home before supper, cross me heart."[/color] He said, and made a line across his chest. He said it in a way that begged no argument, just like his ma used to do.