He wanted to say yes, when she asked if the siblings could help spread word of her new business, but the question only added to his discomfort.

“I’m not certain,” he said, noncommittal, “I would ask Helen first though. She seems to have a lot of connections, she might know where best to start.”

That, and he couldn’t imagine his flighty detective hanging around the kind of crowd that she’d want for business. He did seem to be fond of disguises, for reasons Malachi hadn’t quite figured out (supposed it had something to do with whatever odd work he did), but he couldn’t exactly mention that to her.

Malachi cleared his throat to keep himself from immediately saying ‘no’ when she suggested having a meal with them.

If the mere thought of his niece being in the same room as Aslan was enough to make him uncomfortable, the idea of sitting down with the siblings and- and having a normal meal with them? Spending time in their company as normal people did? Bonding over dinner? That idea had him fidgeting, tongue tracing the edges of his teeth.

No. He couldn’t do that. For… far too many reasons.

“Maybe,” offered Malachi. He didn’t want to shoot her down completely, after all. But- no.

He could already imagine how difficult that would be, given his record thus far with keeping his hands off of the detective. It was a nice thought. A terribly domestic one that he might have entertained had circumstances been any different.

“Nettie…”

The closer they got to St. Hilda’s, the more his discomfort grew.

“There… is actually something I wanted to discuss with you. I just ask that you reserve any judgement until you’ve heard me out.”