“You do not… drag me down,” Malachi insisted, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Stepping back felt like too much and not enough all at once. It would be the sensible thing to do, and yet it felt to him like admitting defeat.

He was silent for a while. Whether it was the fault of the opium, or the warm embrace of her arms, or mere exhaustion – he could have fallen asleep right where he was.

“I don’t want to do anything yet,” he finally whispered. “Not until I can think. I need a few days to make sure that things are… well, in the church. Then I’ll take some time to figure things out. Alright?”