Malachi's answer only served to make Arthur more curious about the scars.  Again, he wanted to rip the mans clothes off and memorize every inch of his skin and scars with his eyes and fingers and tongue.

They were nearly at his office, if they hurried.  Perhaps after his shoulder was stitched back together, he could return the favor and bandage up Malachi too.  And if he got distracted while working, well.  Really, that was Malachi's fault, wasn't it?

"That bastard in Ravenscar," Arthur answered immediately, glaring at nothing in particular.  "The Queen.  My brothers.  You.  Oh, can I only kill one person?"

Arthur's list was extensive, that much was obvious.  if you're going to kill one person, you might as well kill as many as you'd like.  Murder wasn't something someone could come back from, no matter who you confessed to.

"I suppose if I'm only choosing one person, and it could really be anyone... no, yeah, I'm going with that Ravenscar idiot.  I really despise that man.  Should have put him out of his misery when I had the chance."

As they walked, Arthur's hand clenched and unclenched weakly.  It would be fine, he was certain, but he'd really need to let the thing heal completely if he wanted to keep it that way.

Was there a part of his body Malachi could stab without such harsh repercussions?  As a doctor, he should probably know the answer to that, the answer being no, but as the shamelessly perverted man he was, Arthur was considering how important the meat of his thigh really was.  Did he need all of his fingers and toes?

"What about you?  Who would you kill?" he asked, and then as an after thought, "if you haven't already, I mean."  Arthur's tone was joking, but he did seem genuinely interested in whatever answer the priest would give him.