In Liam's defense -- he had no defense. Flirting was in many ways his mother tongue, something that came as naturally as breathing. And this priest had a very intriguing voice, not to mention the things he was saying.

He leaned back against the wall of the confessional, another quiet laugh. "No ill intentions at the moment, Father. I promise. Scout's honor." This time, this moment, he was only wanting to know more about this priest, who was definitely not Father Mullin, who was a very genial old man, but also content in his homily writing and gardening.

It was probably not the best idea to say what he said next, but it came out anyway. "Do you like coffee?"