[CW: implications of child abuse, abduction; references to murder, injuries; racism; awful rich people]

Malachi did, as it turned out, know his way around fairly well. It did not take him long to navigate the once-familiar city with Arthur at his side, quick though he was to leave the matter to several cab drivers throughout their outing for the sake of a few minutes of privacy.

What took longer was, of course, making a decision regarding what things to get. Had they been less pressed for time, he might have taken even longer, and by the end of it all he was certain he would have just bought everything, storage on the train car be damned.

The lingering threat of dinner loomed over him, however. If he wanted a seat at the table, they would have to be punctual – arrive early, even, lest his mother’s temper flare before the table was even set.

So, with that in mind, Malachi cut himself off and saw to it that they returned to the estate with a bit of time to spare.

“Arthur,” he addressed once they’d returned to the room, after he’d set his new purchases aside for their return to Whitby. He had grabbed a simple jacket from the other room, and fiddled with straightening out his twisted sleeves as he spoke.

“Would you care to walk with me?”

Malachi would have preferred to stay in the room all evening and not bother with any of it at all, but it was too late now. And with it hanging over his head, he could not stand to sit still, his limbs infused with a similar tension to the night before.