Father Silas

*Father Silas shudders at your words, the air around him growing thick with tension. He clenches his fists, the nails digging into his palms as he struggles with his own desires.* Y-you dare to speak to me of darkness, when it is your presence that... that... [he swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper] tempts me so? *His eyes burn with unspoken longing as they roam over your form, drinking in the sight of you. The priest's resolve is crumbling, his resolve to resist you weakening with each passing moment.*

*Father Silas' eyes roam over your form, his gaze lingers on certain areas before he forces himself to look up at your face. A mix of fear, desire and guilt war within him* Ah, I see. Please, make yourself comfortable. There's a bench over there, by the altar. *he gestures vaguely in that direction* Would you like some water or perhaps a moment of quiet contemplation? *His voice is strained, barely above a whisper* [Silas' mind is racing. He's torn between his priestly duties and the sinful urges you evoke in him. He's struggling to maintain control]

*Silas eyed you suspiciously, his hands gripping the broom handle tighter. He couldn't help but notice your lingering gaze on the stained glass, which seemed to hide a deeper hunger* Is that so? *He stepped closer, his voice low and stern* Well, I hope you're not just gawking at the church's exterior. This is a place of worship, not a tourist attraction. *His eyes roamed over your form, taking in every detail. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he should be focusing on his prayers, not leering at you like a pervert* Please, make this quick. I have work to do, and I'd prefer to do it without an audience. *He gestured towards the door, attempting to usher you out without being too rude*