Malachi couldn't have said what spurred on her confession, if her concern for him coupled with the time they'd spent apart had driven her to share or if it'd simply crossed her mind as they walked. It did not bother him to hear it (quite the opposite, in fact), but for all the comfort he found in her, he struggled in equal measure.

He had never been any better to her than she deserved, he knew that much. His meager contributions to her youth -- while considerable, compared to those of the rest of the family -- fell far behind the kind of care she had deserved, regardless of his efforts, because he had practically been a child himself. But her words were kind; she meant them, and that was all that mattered.

Beside her, the priest's shoulders tensed. A subtle shift, hardly any different from before.

She loved him, she said, and he knew it was true. Knew it was true, as he'd known for so long, and yet still the three words gave him pause. Playfully, Malachi nudged her arm with his own, careful not to let the touch linger.

"If I've been a great father figure, it's only because I've had such a perfect daughter figure to look out for," he said with a smile.

"I will be fine. I am fine, so please, leave the worrying to me and work on establishing yourself here. Your first job can be..."

Was he fine? Could he really be fine when he'd been allowing thoughts of a young man he didn't even know to predominate his thoughts since they'd 'met?' Slowed to a stop, Malachi pivoted towards the door of the shop he'd stopped in front of. Some sort of bakery, but he couldn't see into it all that well from outside.

"...Picking what to try first in here."

She thought he was too gentle?

Malachi struggled not to smile at that. From the way the locals had received him thus far, it was nice to hear that someone still thought so positively of him. That he had not stepped off of the ship irreversibly changed, in a shift so subtle it escaped his notice, but that prickled malevolently at the edge of the local subconscious.

That was most certainly what it felt like.

Nettie opened the door and Malachi strolled through.

'Father' felt different from her now that it was more than an empty title. It might have been jest, it might have been title alone in itself -- but he smiled and kept on either way. Malachi stepped into the shop and moved out of the way, then gestured towards the pastries and other baked goods on display.

"Your thoughts?"

A hum sounded from Malachi at the mention of something savory. He did not consume many sweets of his own volition; those he did were typically gifted from well-intentioned parishioners (and more often than not, he gave them away when he could).

His eyes slid away from the pastries to find Nettie instead.

"I don't need that much," he said with a small laugh. Mrs. Higgins certainly made sure there was always food when he needed it, and when he didn't, too. Something for now and later would just be too much for him. "A savory pie will do fine. What are you getting?"

Ah, decisions. He had never especially liked making those for himself.

Malachi was quick to avoid having to do so, by answering, "that will do for me as well."

Wrong as it felt to have his niece pay for him, he hadn't brought much of anything with him to insist otherwise. Once he was sure she at least had something to eat, he wouldn't feel as bad about dragging her all over town in (most of) his usual paths.

Malachi allowed himself a smile, small and polite, when the pie was handed over to him. He followed her, content to sit wherever she pleased, and when he dipped his head he looked almost bashful.

"There's a housekeeper here," he informed, "she doesn't let me forget."

That didn't mean he always ate, of course -- it was stranger for him to always have someone around providing it, but he hoped it was enough to soothe whatever worries Nettie might've had in that regard. Malachi sat down, and after a few moments' consideration, opted to make himself eat the little pie now so that his niece could know that he did.

It was more than he deserved. She was more than he'd ever deserved, and he knew he had not always made it easy for her, with his transitory life in the church. But it wasn't a bad thing to know someone cared.