The knife was placed between them. Pushed closer to Malachi's end, even, but he did not make any move to reach for it.

Mister Tully was... very determined to get some sort of confession out of him. An admission of wrongdoing, or at least of having done something, but the more he was told to offer it, the less inclined Malachi felt to do so. The beggar had been rather presumptuous about him since they'd met, despite only having known him for so long.

"I didn't meet Father Kemble, actually."

And what was he doing, taking the Lord's name in vain right in front of him like that?

"You have misunderstood me," said Malachi, firmer this time. He rose from his seat and continued, "I am here to help people in their faith, not harm them. You could just as easily end me, if you wished, yet it's on me to confess to something I didn't intend?"

He grabbed the basket from where he'd set it aside.

"I'm not interested in your information anymore, regardless, if you think such things of me."