[ It's no less personal a subject to John Irving, the nature of Duplicity in all its depraved influences and perverse temptations, the implications it suggests for his -- and Jopson's, and anyone else's -- immortal souls; even lacking any knowledge of his own death (but safe enough to imagine any number of ways it could have occurred without that really being the major sticking point here for him yet) Irving's blood goes cold to consider for what reason he might be in Hell.

Really, he could almost cry.

But instead he drinks his tea, blinking as he listens to Jopson describe his new friend and housemate. Nothing untoward about the nature of their relationship stands out to Irving for now, because Jopson's efficient description is as informative as it needs to be just to give Irving a concept of the man to whom his crewmate has clearly become fond of enough to value his company so.

The cup lowers again, clinking slightly from the slightly agitated force with which Irving sets it down. ]

I have not been preaching gospel, as you say, although if I am to be asked, Jopson, how I'm meant to feel about the clear immoral nature of where I've found myself, then I will speak my thoughts quite plain. Even if I were the last and only Christian man in Hell, I will never feel shame for speaking on my dedication to carrying the Lord's love with me, in my heart. [ He pauses, taking a breath. ] Can you not understand? God cannot reach us here-- our faith alone is all that remains of Him in this place.