( Bad, informal, perhaps inappropriate. In normal circumstances, Sunday might have dejected the idea entirely and yet he’s humoring it with an open - though guarded mind. A cool shine runs through his halo, emitting a soft glow in its duration. The same shock is also felt at the core of his spine, and his eyes are half lidded whenever he lays his gaze onto Olivine. That cursed mark on his chest is pumping wild ideas in his mind, and he, too, falls victim to certain voices— ones he wishes away. Olivine must have experience suppressing his memories, Sunday knows the struggle when he sees it and this priest here feels more experienced in that regard. It’s not like Sunday is used to his suit activating, so in a way, he does feel like going crazy. )

Then we could help each other. I can become your distraction from your memories.

As far as assisting me, well, hah. I won’t fault you for waiting when it’s more appropriate. Unless you guiding me here is your way of offering yourself to me.

What would be most comfortable for you?

( The focus on him blends one thought and the next, and for a brief moment he’s flashes with that cowering body, he hears those filthy moans and sees limbs and bodies intertwining as one, obscene mass. Sunday thinks it’s the room feeding him these things, because he wouldn’t intrude someone’s willful mind otherwise.

He stands up so he’s in front of him, peering down with eyes that cut through air. )

I will not bestow any prejudice to any of your “bad” requests or wishes. We’re both here as a team, aren’t we?

How do you normally like to help others in this situation?