If there was anything Malachi considered himself to have had an advantage in, growing up, it was in not growing up Catholic.

All the teachings had come to him later, once he had already developed opinions and thoughts of his own. His father might have played at being a religious man when being one was convenient, but in educating Malachi, he had left matters of faith outside.

He had enough experience by now with those raised Catholic that he knew the issues were deep-seated. It typically took more than a few words of encouragement to break down those walls, but it took far longer if he never cared to try.

"If having the legal security of a wife would soothe some of your fears, that is your choice. I would urge you not to run into anything hastily, though, if you are simply seeking a distraction from the things you truly want."

Malachi kept his own opinion regarding that loveless sort of marriage unspoken. The priest allowed a brief silence, studying the constable's covered face.

"When I was younger..." he started, sounding somewhat hesitant. "Before I was a priest."

How he despised sharing anything of himself with his parishioners. Part of collecting information, however, was knowing when to give, when to add fuel to the fire of trust he meant to build.

"I loved someone. For... many reasons, we could not be together, and I was certain that that pain would haunt me for the rest of my life. Like a ghost following my every footstep," and Malachi smiled, then, strange and small. "This might not be what you want to hear, constable, but it is possible to move on. No matter how difficult it may be. It is either that, or condemn yourself to this feeling of helplessness forever, always to wonder what might have been if only things were different."

His smile faded, and Malachi looked away from Crane to the empty cup instead.

"You are not wrong for being the way you are. But it would be wrong to make yourself suffer any more than you need to."