If Luca thought all of Gods creatures were perfect, Crawford had a few examples to put that faith to the test. Like a man who murdered his wife and abused his children for years while putting on a pretty face for the public that loved him. The horrible things he'd done to his youngest son that left him permanently fractured and fragmented. The dirty money and support he willingly accepted from one of the filthiest criminals of the city. A man who quietly sought ways to use demons for his own purposes. A man who was rumored to keep a few possessed specimens caged for his own reasons. But that would require Crawford admitting how he knew any of this.

He let out a derisive snort as he crammed his half empty pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. "Means you're not wantin' to reward me for a job well done," he scoffed. "Means you're feelin' right guilty about cocking it all up."

He fixed Luca with as hard a look as he could manage while feeling like someone were using a jackhammer on his skull. "Tell ya what, if you're feelin' so desperate to repay my 'valiant' efforts, you come by my house o' worship. Say round 7 or 8, when I'll be there." He rattled off the intersection of where the bar was. Let the priest get a taste of the real world. The perfect little creatures who would never set foot in his domain.