The sound of the heavy pen on the desk boomed like thunder -no, a gavel- in Rory's ears. He knew without looking it was a Mont Blanc. You couldn't expect a Bishop to wield a holy... Bic.
Words filtered through.
"Official statement..."
He understood.
"Resurrection..."
Only through God was eternal life.
"Life after death..."
And the only way to God was through the Church.
"Recant..."
He rubbed his face, sweat stinging a fresh layer of skin exposed by a razor hours ago. Despite the limp wetness of his collar against his neck, he was cold. In spite of everything, he could feel hot tightness around his eyes. Anger, sorrow, boiling over. Disgust. Embarrassment. Paralyzing disbelief.
Turning to the window, he felt the heat from the glass as he moved close, wanting something else to fill his unfocused gaze.
"That's him." It began as a whisper, disbelieving.
He pointed, turning.
"That. Is. Him. There's proof." Vindication covered the sound of anger and desperation in his voice.
A rustle, and the large man joined him, peering through the window, face contorting in disbelief and anger.
"The Most Reverend Quinn is here to witness your laicization."