11-04-2013, 05:10 PM
Jensen looked up from the slip of paper, blinking in surprise. John's was an incredibly generous offer. A car, home, furnishings and means all at once. There was a time when Jensen himself was a wealthy man. That was how he was able to stuff ten million dollars in a briefcase without too much notice, and he liked to think he would have offered his pool house to anyone in need, but a dejected liar with a criminal record? He knew that he would have given pause before inviting such a person into such trust.
In John's brief absence, and between the surges of shock, Jensen took another look around. This loft was in a beautiful location - he suddenly remembered the serene park between the building and the metro station - and came complete with more furniture in one corner than in all of Jensen's current apartment, murphy's bed included. And John was going to give it to him?
The man returned, book in hand. It was heavy. He read the cover, and his chest tightened. THE HOLY BIBLE, it read. The binding was thick, the paper yellow, the edging gold. He opened it to the cover page, where black typeface curled with intricate script the Bible's identity. This Bible was sourced from the 1760's, completed by Cambridge University.
Book open in his hands, Jensen found John's gaze, and once more didn't know what to say. The value of the gift was immense, but for its rarity, though it surely was near to priceless. The Bible itself was the living Word of God, and every time a passage is read, the Spirit may inspire the reader with new significance. The relationship between a man and the Bible is to have a relationship with the Lord himself, but the actual, physical book becomes beloved. Men carry their Bibles until they literally fall apart. By John's confession, this was the book that he held dearest, and he was going to give it away.
"John,"
Jensen began. He gently placed the book aside and turned back to him, eyes sunken with the stones of guilt. He took a breath. "You clearly know me as I know you. Yet you demonstrate enormous trust in me when I have done nothing to garner trustworthiness."
Jensen's heart beat wild, urging him to flee. He may have rededicated himself to the Lord, but it didn't mean temptation didn't try to drain his soul every five minutes.
He ran a nervous hand across the slope of his hair. "And that means you're aware of my deception, greed, lies..."
Jensen could go on, but he figured John got the point. Nobody in this room needed reminded about the headlines. Prosti-dude. Nor how outspoken he'd once been about the sanctity of marriage. He nodded awkwardly and continued, "...and we run into one another on the opposite side of the world from where we started in Texas. I can do ... things...,"
As a reminder, he gestured the same spherical shape with his hands he'd used before to summon that orb of light before. Supernatural things. Gift from God or not. It was still messed up.
But there was more to share. John might as well know exactly what he was dealing with. "You know I abandoned Jessika to scandal and shame, the woman I vowed to protect and cherish. That i'd rather my boys think their father dead than have to look them in the eye."
His throat burned, nearly getting choked up over that last admission.
He whispered a final question. Any louder and he was sure to have broken out in tears for a third time today. Maybe rather than cars and Bibles, John could get him a couple boxes of testosterone shots.
"Why do you trust me?"
In John's brief absence, and between the surges of shock, Jensen took another look around. This loft was in a beautiful location - he suddenly remembered the serene park between the building and the metro station - and came complete with more furniture in one corner than in all of Jensen's current apartment, murphy's bed included. And John was going to give it to him?
The man returned, book in hand. It was heavy. He read the cover, and his chest tightened. THE HOLY BIBLE, it read. The binding was thick, the paper yellow, the edging gold. He opened it to the cover page, where black typeface curled with intricate script the Bible's identity. This Bible was sourced from the 1760's, completed by Cambridge University.
Book open in his hands, Jensen found John's gaze, and once more didn't know what to say. The value of the gift was immense, but for its rarity, though it surely was near to priceless. The Bible itself was the living Word of God, and every time a passage is read, the Spirit may inspire the reader with new significance. The relationship between a man and the Bible is to have a relationship with the Lord himself, but the actual, physical book becomes beloved. Men carry their Bibles until they literally fall apart. By John's confession, this was the book that he held dearest, and he was going to give it away.
"John,"
Jensen began. He gently placed the book aside and turned back to him, eyes sunken with the stones of guilt. He took a breath. "You clearly know me as I know you. Yet you demonstrate enormous trust in me when I have done nothing to garner trustworthiness."
Jensen's heart beat wild, urging him to flee. He may have rededicated himself to the Lord, but it didn't mean temptation didn't try to drain his soul every five minutes.
He ran a nervous hand across the slope of his hair. "And that means you're aware of my deception, greed, lies..."
Jensen could go on, but he figured John got the point. Nobody in this room needed reminded about the headlines. Prosti-dude. Nor how outspoken he'd once been about the sanctity of marriage. He nodded awkwardly and continued, "...and we run into one another on the opposite side of the world from where we started in Texas. I can do ... things...,"
As a reminder, he gestured the same spherical shape with his hands he'd used before to summon that orb of light before. Supernatural things. Gift from God or not. It was still messed up.
But there was more to share. John might as well know exactly what he was dealing with. "You know I abandoned Jessika to scandal and shame, the woman I vowed to protect and cherish. That i'd rather my boys think their father dead than have to look them in the eye."
His throat burned, nearly getting choked up over that last admission.
He whispered a final question. Any louder and he was sure to have broken out in tears for a third time today. Maybe rather than cars and Bibles, John could get him a couple boxes of testosterone shots.
"Why do you trust me?"