Fairly practiced at the fine art of paying little attention to questions she feels no need to answer, she ignores his first question like a world-class champ.

Except for the smile on her face. It's just too amused to go anywhere, and when she thinks about a giant cross full of guns being persuasive when it comes to dispensing the good word, she's letting out another small half-delighted half-surprised -- she doesn't know why she's surprised at this point -- laugh.

He's no priest she's ever known, even if what she has to go by isn't much, and she couldn't be more okay with that.

"Oh," she starts breezily enough, hands still behind her head, barely bothering to so much as glance for cars before crossing the street, "not long. Months. I guess you could call it the only steady job I've had." Her amused smile fixes itself into more of a wry slant. "And I'm not bad at it, but we don't appear to be very lucky."

Sometimes she doesn't think it's the gig for her, but the truth is it suits her more than anything else she can think of.