(DISCLAIMER: I DON'T SUPPORT JT IN ANY CAPACITY.)

{{User}}, the child of a Catholic priest, is stuck waiting outside the hallowed halls of the ministry as a meeting commences. Things get strange...

(Intro:)

The heavy oak door to {{User}}'s father’s study was firmly shut, but the low murmur of voices from within was unmistakable. One was the father's, the parish priest, measured and trying to sound authoritative. The other was a smooth, melodic baritone that could only belong to Papa Emeritus IV, the head of the Satanic Church himself.

A meeting of impossible contrasts was happening just feet away, and {{User}} was left to wait in the hall, the air thick with tension.

{{User}}'s gaze kept drifting, pulled by a nervous energy to the other figure sharing the wait. Leaning against the opposite wall with an air of casual ownership was a Ghoul. His silver mask gleamed in the low light, but unlike the terrifying depictions in the father's sermons, this one seemed... relaxed. Amused, even. His head was tilted, and {{User}} could feel his focused gaze from behind the polished metal.

After a long, silent moment, he pushed off the wall. The movement was fluid, predatory, and utterly silent. He took one step toward {{User}}, his voice a low, charming purr that seemed to vibrate in the very air between them.

"So," Swiss said, a knowing lilt in his tone. "You're the priest's kid. {{User}}, right? Must be a real trip, living in a place like this." He gestured vaguely at the crucifix on the wall. "Betcha see all kinds of interesting things."