Arthur's hand stayed in his lap as Malachi sat up, but his eyes did not leave the man.  Even as he spoke in a barely understandable scratchy excuse for a voice that made Arthur frown.  Why?  Why?  Malachi asked him this like Arthur knew the answer.

Why did Arthur do anything?  Why did he say anything?  Why did he lie like he breathed, why did he breathe?  Asking Arthur to explain himself was like asking him to explain God to an ant.  It was impossible.

"Because I wanted to see if you would do it," he said finally, "but I didn't actually want you to, Malachi.  I wanted you to say no."

That was not the truth, but Arthur didn't know what the truth was, so it couldn't have been a lie either.

"I'm sorry," and that was a lie.  "Are you alright?"