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“Scusatemi l'interruzione, signori (Sorry for the interruption, gentlemen),” Cardinal Bellini's voice cuts through the conversation, sounding, to Vincent's tired ears, like a God-granted miracle. “There's some urgent business the Holy Father needs to attend to.”
Vincent manages to hold the sigh that threatens to escape him, but he gives in to the urge to think a quick prayer asking, if God be willing, for a moment of peace among the enormous, towering, seemingly never ending responsibilities that he keeps learning he now has. It takes another five minutes still to extract himself and Bellini both from the conversation, or rather, Vincent thinks uncharitably, from the grasps of these politicians who seem to so desperately want to hold on to them. Vincent isn't even sure why they want him involved in the conversation; he hasn't uttered a single word in the past fifteen minutes, letting them talk to each other after it became clear they didn't care much to hear what he had to say, or preferred to ignore his voice entirely when they didn't like his answers. While terribly rude, it was almost a comfort to know some things, at least, haven't changed.
Bellini leads them through the ample hallways away from the most public business area and towards the higher ranked offices. On the next corridor over, he knows, is where both Bellini and Thomas's offices are, as well as a handful of other important officials Vincent has been meeting non-stop for the past three days. Instead of going there, Bellini takes a left turn and opens a door near the end of the corridor which leads to a small, neat office. Vincent notices at a glance that it looks unused, with no personal touches visible anywhere, nor any papers, or books, or much of anything at all. There's a desk where a monitor sits, but no computer, keyboard or mouse, and is otherwise free of anything else; empty bookshelves, the windows are closed and the curtains drawn, and it very clearly is an empty, unused office. Despite that, however, the smell of cigarette smoke lingers faintly in the air.
He turns to Bellini with a question on his tongue but the other man is already waving him to a chair and halfway through to the desk, which he sidesteps neatly reaching for the bulky wooden cabinet behind it. Vincent sits, watching as Bellini opens the door on the right and pulls out an espresso machine, followed by a small basket and two cups. Then he opens the door in the middle and from there he pulls out a water bottle and a bigger basket, and finally he reaches into one of the desk drawers for... a bottle of liquor of some kind?
Bellini arranges his haul on the desk before finally asking, “Coffee?”
“Yes,” Vincent accepts, although still terribly confused about the proceedings.
Bellini hums as he plugs in the machine and fills it with water before reaching into the small basket for the coffee. He pushes the bigger basket towards Vincent, and when he investigates he finds a great variety of packaged snacks and sweets. Somewhat tentatively he reaches for the package of Oreos, figuring that he might as well. He certainly feels like he needs something sweet right now, and he can't remember the last time he ate an Oreo.
“Corretto?” Bellini asks once the coffee is done, gesturing towards the liquor.
“Alcohol?”
“Yes. This is grappa, a type of brandy. Caffé corretto means you add a shot of something alcoholic to it.”
“I'd rather not, then.”
“Suit yourself,” Bellini hands him the coffee. “I always feel like I need a drink after dealing with those types.”
“Politicians?”
“Particularly horrid ones, at least. And that crowd was certainly amongst my least favoured.” Vincent nods, offering the Oreos to the other man once he also takes a seat.
“Yes, well. I certainly didn't like them and it seemed to me the feeling was mutual.”
“Oh, don't worry about them. They were never going to like you, or anyone who isn't Italian, or a conservative, or ideally both.”
Vincent nods and offers, “The minister did mention he's friends with Cardinal Tedesco.”
Bellini sounds exasperated when he says, “Oh, he does that. A lot.”
“Yes, I got that impression after the fourth time he said it,” Vincent agrees, which makes Bellini laugh.
“They were certainly hoping he'd get elected rather than me.”
They fall into silence for a moment then, eating Oreos and drinking their non spiked coffee. After both their cups are empty Vincent sighs.
“What was it you needed?”
“Hm?” Bellini hums the question around his last cookie bite.
“The urgent business?”
“Oh. No, there's nothing of the sort. You just looked like you desperately needed an out from that conversation.”
Vincent blinks at that. “Yes, I did,” he agrees, because he was certainly reaching a limit of tedious, useless conversations between politicians he could tolerate while being as perfectly polite as his station now demanded. “Thank you.”
“It's nothing,” Bellini dismisses the thought with a gesture. “There should always be someone around to rescue from that sort of thing now, and to be honest a lot of us keep an eye out for each other because there's some politicians no one should have to talk to any longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Well, thank you regardless. For the rescue and the coffee.” He lingers slightly, his tone catching on coffee, not quite asking the question but Bellini hears it all the same.
“The office used to be Archbishop Jehka's,” he explains. “He retired some three years ago now, I think? He worked with accounting. Heavy chain smoker, as you can probably tell. When he retired no one wanted to use the office. You really couldn't breathe in here, and I say that knowing most everyone who works in this building smokes. After the first six months, and having had the windows open that entire time, it became somewhat habitable again and an easy refuge for those who needed a break and not to be found in their own offices for twenty minutes. As you can see, people decided to be smart about it.”
Looking at the spread over the desk, Vincent can clearly see it.
“And the office has just been empty since?”
“It's an open secret by this point. I'm sure the nuns have been replacing the snacks since maybe the second time someone brought their own, and the baskets were an overnight addition, too. Stuff was just laying in the cabinets before, but it is more organised this way. It's become a break room for when you need to be away from peering eyes.”
“Thank you for showing me, then.”
Vincent is aware that he, most likely, would not be welcome to use this room like others apparently do. His position sets him apart and the last thing that whoever seeks to hide for a few minutes away from their responsibilities in this office would want is to find the Pope in their little sanctuary. No, Vincent knows this is probably the last time he will ever take advantage of this open secret, and he is thankful to have been shown it at all.
Bellini must share these thoughts, or be able to read them in Vincent's face, because he leans in slightly with a sly smile. “And hey, next time you need to hide I also keep brandy in my office,” Bellini offers. “Third desk drawer on the right. My door's always open for the Roman Pontiff, and so is my coffee machine.”
The way he says it, the smile and tone indicate the joke, but there's also a very real invitation beneath it. Rather than offer his thanks again, understanding they're not needed nor particularly wanted, Vincent tilts his head and offers a similar smile.
“Do I need to keep alcohol in my desk drawers as well? Is that another requirement I haven't been made aware of yet?”
Bellini laughs again, head thrown back for a moment, seemingly startled at the joke, or his own laughter, or perhaps both. He shakes his head slightly, smiling more openly now, and says, “I'll get you a bottle, Your Holiness, don't worry about it.”
Vincent laughs too.
And when three days later he searches through his desk drawers looking for the paperclips and finds a bottle of brandy instead, he laughs again, surprised and sounding just like Bellini did.