Monsignor Jim Young's teeth rattled as his hand was pumped in the enthusiastic grasp of a man shod, panted, shirted, jacketed, and bespectacled in undifferentiated black, made remarkable to Young's eye only by the neckline's absence of a 1" white square.
"Hey, how's it going, Father!"
"Please call me Jim."
Finger-gun, thumb-hammer click. "You the son-of-man, Jimbo. And hello and welcome. Cliff Rimmer here, and you must be..."
Young pre-empted. "This is Bernard Cardinal Sharpe of the Archdiocese."
"Mr. Rimmer," said the Cardinal, vibrating disdain.
"Call me Cliff! And I should call you...?"
"Your Eminence."
Cliff spread his hands in a pantomime whoa. "Outstanding. Make an awesome title for Eminem's greatest hits!" He prestidigitated a silvery sliver from his jacket and spoke to it. "Note to self regarding working title for Eminem compilation album." He lingered in the pose long enough to allow the shock wave to spread into a swell of discomfort around the room before pantomiming a bigger whoa and blurting "Kidding! Kidding."
