Finished with the vegetables, Malachi rested lightly forward against the table, knife still in hand. Mister Tully had his full attention now, and though the beggar had lifted slightly higher when he sat up, the priest still had to look down at him to meet his gaze.

A quiet sound -- a cross between a huff and a proper sigh -- pushed from his lips. It was enough that the hair in his face was swayed, and his free hand rose to push it back. Mister Tully wasn't wrong about all of it, but he wasn't all right either. That sad way to think was one of the core aspects of priesthood, and he did not want to be transferred yet again because of it. How many times would they move him around before they realized it was him and not the church? How long before they stuck him somewhere even farther away, where his parish could not possibly idolize him, where they'd skewer him instead for bringing them his Catholic ways?

Not much longer. He had to stay. He had to make this one work.

"It is not a façade," said Malachi, setting down the knife.

"The sheep do not concern themselves with the shepherd himself, but with the field he brings them to. I'm only a guide, a stepping stone, and that is what I signed up for in taking this path."

Francis looked up at Brennan as he was nice to look at but also very interesting. He didn't smile, just retained this quiet, peaceful look as he studied his face. As he listened, something seemed to click in the simple man's mind. That secretive grin appeared on his face as something worked in his mind."

"Well sheep are stupid and unaware of things. If that is what you think of the flock..."
He stood straight and placed a finger on the side of the blade to keep it pressed to the table. He slipped closer to the other man, dangerously close while he leaned in so that he'd remain just a hair shorter than the priest. "But you know what every good Shepard needs? A loyal sheep dog to scare the strays back to the herd and to be a companion on those long days."

It was such a risk, and his single finger on the knife would not keep it still if he unleashed something in the priest. He grabbed the man's hand and placed it on Francis' head. "Just say 'here boy' and I can come running if you would like?"

God, he was trying so hard.

Did everyone in Whitby want to fuck him?

Did the whole fucking parish have deep-rooted father issues and masochistic tendencies?

Or maybe they'd all just sussed him out before he'd even had a chance to establish himself as anything else but what he was. Malachi wondered when he'd let himself become so transparent; if it had happened without his notice, or if some part of himself had wanted to be seen in spite of his efforts to hide. But God, he didn't want to pack up and leave again. A priest had no home, but Malachi wanted for something, somewhere, sometime, to at least become familiar.

The beggar set his hand atop his head. So the priest twisted his fingers through his hair.

"Do you think that I need help keeping them in line?" Given the indignation that edged into his tone, the question was clearly rhetorical.

Close as Mister Tully had made them, Malachi leaned in closer still.

"Down, boy. I didn't tell you to touch me."

He released his grip, and his hand fell back to his side.

Francis winced at the twist of his hair but didn't lose his smile. He slowly grabbed the vegetables and nodded up to him, completely undisturbed by the aggravation he had caused.

"It was merely an offer. If you change your mind you know where to find me. I still think you're fun." He laughed lightly and placed the vegetables in the pot and grabbed a wooden spoon to stir them. "Sure we have no meat?" He asked towards the taller man, having hoped as unlikely as it was that they could make the dish taste a lot better.

Fun? He thought that Malachi was fun?

He raised a brow, but said nothing to that. Mister Tully's propositioning was one thing when it was only teasing, but he could not let him think that he would seriously consider such an offer. He might have claimed to have no influence over what anyone else thought of the priest, given his status, but the fewer rumors he had to worry about, the better.

Even if he missed the way the beggar had looked up at him, pleading, the same way so many used to look at him before.

"I'm sure," Malachi lied. He hadn't the faintest clue.

He turned, clearing the cutting board and knife off of the table. As he did, he asked as casually as he could, "what do you know of that constable?"

Francis pouted and shrugged as he stirred the soup there was nothing to be done. At the question towards the constable, he looked towards the ceiling.

"You mean Crane? I mean.. what I know is if you get in trouble with the law, you hope it's him. He is very easy going on most crimes. He just makes people stop what they are doing as long as there's like.. nothing serious. And what I've heard is he's very keep to himself. Not married, no scandals. Well besides the wards. Supposedly he let's that family get away with everything. But lots of people walk all over him. Guy is so lonely he probably just yearns for people to talk to, but he claims to be like married to his job and he lives with a cat. Was there something specific you wanted to know?" He wasn't an expert on the man but he had had his run ins. "I mean the guy has been out of town for a while. "

So that was at least two people of the same opinion, then: that Constable Crane was kind. The only negatives he'd heard about him weren't even real negatives, the guy was just lonely and seemed a bit nervous.

Malachi dipped his head to show he'd heard, but looked to be distracted with his thoughts until the beggar's voice piped up again.

"Out of town?" repeated Malachi, dark eyes returning to Mister Tully's face.

"Do you know what he was doing out of town?"

Francis shrugged as he stirred the pot. "I mean... I heard the paper had something about him being a bad constable. I think he was under stress about something. He went on vacation to clear his head, officially?" He tilted his head as if in deep thought then had that large grin. "But I mean there are other rumors. But they are so small and no one believes them. So I shouldn't spread pointless stuff."

Curious. A vacation to clear his head.

"Ah?"

The mention of other rumors caught his full attention again, and Malachi's head tilted slightly as he watched Mister Tully stir the pot.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Would these pointless rumors happen to involve the church, by any chance?"

Francis seemed in thought and his smile grew even more "I mean I could tell you that. But I thought you didn't want my help with anything.."

He hummed casually then laughed. "I'm kidding, I will tell you." He stepped closer and held up a hand to whisper. "It could mean nothing but.. see.. he was normally nice about feeding people he considered friends or even letting them stay on his sofa for a night. Buut... he started being nice to this local dude who was totally a criminal type but was like trying to give him a second chance and just stays at his house for a couple of days. He gets injured and taken into the church and then they go home. The guy leaves his house not to return and then.." he looks towards the door then back up at Brennan with a smile.

"Almost immediately our favorite priest leaves town and the constable just happens to go the very next day. Coincidence? Everyone says yes. But I do love to pretend there is some deep juicy secret. Don't you?"