Disclaimer: Just borrowing the boys for a bit of fun, 'tsall.
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From where he was lounging in a dilapidated armchair, the Doctor opened one eye and smirked. "Where're you going? It's sunrise, not sunset, you know."
"Church," the Argentinean replied shortly, picking his way through books and bottles on his way to the door.
The older man's other eye snapped open. "Church?" He looked as surprised as the Argentinean had ever seen him.
The Argentinean pointedly held up the crucifix around his neck. "It isn't just for show," he said, eyeing the Doctor's own tangled necklaces. "Maybe you should come along."
Not offended, the latter twisted one of the chains around a gnarled finger. "Not for me, thanks. I'm old and depraved and I'd rather use my mornings for sleeping than…than the things you do in that place, whatever they are."
"The usual things. Praying, singing, taking communion."
The Doctor—obviously imagining the quick-tempered dancer kneeling behind a pew, piously tearing through hymns with his gravelly voice—had an odd expression on his face.
Apparently noticing this, the Argentinean added, "And there's confessing, sometimes. My confessions are always interesting."
The Doctor snickered. "I'll bet the priests come to blows over who gets to man the confessionals around here, don't they?"
"Probably. I've known whores who would go in together just to see who could best get a rise out of the priests. I think the current winner made one faint. There's some debate over that, though, since he was an old man. And there is another girl who says she goaded one into fits, if you believe her."
"Huh." The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I will come."