Jeremiah Parrish is a man of the past. Two hundred years he's walked the earth, and he's seen the worst that men can do.
He has done some of it himself.
So when he first sees the Samaritan, the man who is supposed to embody the hope of the future, his first response is a cynical chuckle. When Samaritan finds him one night, asks him to join the Honor Guard, he is appalled. His rejection is swift and absolute. Samaritan merely nods.
And returns a month later to request help with a supernatural case.
And then again a week later, until they are working together regularly, and Confessor is unsure how it happened.
"You should have an apprentice," Samaritan says one day.
Confessor recoils. "I? With what I am?" They have never spoken of his nature, but Samaritan merely frowns.
"You have so much to teach," he says simply. "And--" He lays a hand on Jeremiah's shoulder, "--I know you would never harm an innocent."
His touch is light; Jeremiah can sense the empyrean energy that runs beneath it. It awakes no hunger, it expresses no coercion beyond friendship.
Jeremiah feels the future lay its hand upon him.