You've been drinking like the world was gonna end
The hand on his back was welcome, if a little surprising; Adam was not accustomed to comforting touch. Usually, if someone touched him, it was sexual or violent and little inbetween. Her hand was warm, soft even through his shirt, and he leaned back a little into it.
Apparently, it didn't matter where she prayed, which was news to him. He'd always thought of religion as something that happened in high-ceilinged halls with golden statues, for people not like him, those who would spend their time reading the scripture and ignoring all of it's lessons. But even though he thought her choice of location was interesting, he still couldn't relate to her reasons for doing it at all.
"But...why should you be grateful, though? You didn't ask for it and there's a hell of a lotta shit that ain't good in it. I'm not...trying to knock your prayers n stuff. I just never got it. I guess it makes more sense here cos the Gods actually reply, but I dunno.." He shrugged. He'd never been pious.
Adam
It didn't.
