Work Text:
Suddenly, there's someone behind his back.
“He reminds me of you,” he says, knowing he's heard most - if not all – of their talk.
“Me?” Clinton repeats.
“Desperate, sure that he deserves his suffering, his loneliness,” the priest explains. “Forced on a path he doesn't want to take.”
“I'd already taken that path,” Clinton reminds him, as if he could ever forget that soaked kitten he found.
“And now you're a hero.”
Clinton doesn't answer, and he knows that, looking back, he won't see him anymore. It doesn't matter. He'll keep on telling him that truth, until he'll believe it.