"Chicken or the egg, then. They didn't touch on the Judeo-Christian religions, did they?" If she were sober she probably wouldn't let a little bit of sentimentality creep into her voice at that. Then again, if she were sober, she probably wouldn't care beyond a cursory curiosity about potential blasphemy.

She runs her hand over her mouth and through her hair. Her religion comes to her like the tides. Some days it fills her up and she's nearly pious; others, she can't find God in anything, not in the basic fact that she's alive or the miracle of her son's survival through that war. Lately she's been tilting towards the former, but what else are you supposed to do in a jail cell but wear your prayers down to the bone?

She listens to Daniel carefully, although she worries that if she stops concentrating on doing that her mind will start wandering. He doesn't seem to be dumbing things down for her, but he isn't delving into more complicated subjects either.

"Are all the religious occupations from Earth?" That's the best word she can think of for it, 'occupations'. To take a body is an act of war, to take a belief as much so, even if the harm is minimized. It's an invasion.