Well, Arthur did not seem to need much time to think of that one at all. Rather quick on the draw, he was. Malachi was stunned enough by the former half of the answer that it took one, then two slow blinks for him to even register the latter.

“Ah,” he dipped his head in a nod, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world for Arthur to say that he wanted to spit in his mouth and then kill a man. In truth, to Malachi – it might have been.

Curse the rules of the world.

The priest breathed out a disappointed sigh and glanced away, back to the source of his annoyance.

“I would bash his head into the window,” he whispered, “until either it or the glass shattered open.”

His gaze grew somewhat distant as he stared on, imagining it.

“If it was the glass, I’d throw him out. And I’d tie that woman to him, too,” Malachi gestured subtly to a younger woman ahead of them, who had thrown both of them a concerned glance as she’d boarded the train. Turning back to Arthur, he finished, “and what you said too, of course.”