“Not quite robbed, cousin.” Valencia was warming to telling the story and not incidentally avoiding the lecture for a few more moments. “So, I had just come in and I was standing at the counter near another woman and the owner. The priest was there too. Then, this man bursts in waving a gun and shouting like a madman. I couldn’t understand everything he was saying; he was too agitated and talking so fast. But I think he owed money somewhere, to some Earl or Duke or something. And then
he pointed the gun right at me!
” Valencia laid a fingertip on her forehead, miming a ‘right between the eyes’ sort of gesture.
“That was when the Father got involved; his name was a ‘W’ something…Whitaker, I think. He offered the man all his money to go and leave us alone, but of course that simply couldn’t
be allowed to happen which I told the thief, I said he would be committing the gravest of sins if he stole from a priest and his parish. Well, he didn’t like that. I think that was when the other woman ran out. That was when he shot his gun off and ran in to break the safe. Then the shopkeeper gave the priest a gun and, well…then they fought.” Her narration began to falter as she reached the most disturbing point of her story.
”And the…he…well. The priest was fine. I’m fine. The bank was safe. I heard…the priest came out. But the other man…I heard…” Suddenly her eyes were filling with tears. The event had really been more upsetting than she had thought. She had watched the thief walk into the room. She had not needed to see the body to feel the creep of death all over her skin. “He didn’t come back out.”OOC: Not a problem