Francis looked surprised by the out upstairs and stared at Father Richards. His lips thinned into a tight line and it was clear he struggled to keep from saying whatever he was going to say. Unknown to all around, he had a lot of possibilities swirling in his head.

When Father Brennan spoke, the look wiped from his face as if it were never there and he smiled cheerfully towards the other. "Of course! You're so very generous, even though I know funds and space are tight for the church. Helping out us helpless lads and lasses in our time of need."

He leaned forwards to Chéri, careful to not disturb the food and spoke softly to them, making sure the others couldn't clearly hear. It was all for his own benefit since the French guest couldn't understand him.

"Don't let him scare ya, he's just mad that I offered to help him out with all that tension he's got. Poor thing , so angry over a joke. And I tell ya, if you can't hit on a priest to see their shocked looks, who can you hit on?" He shrugged and pulled away looking at the other helplessly.

Gabriel stood frozen for a moment. He half expected a reprimand from Brennan, and even when it did not come, the shame burned inside of him and he dared not look. Tully's further provocation was too much. "Excuse me," he muttered, and he put his serviette down and paced out of the kitchen.

He went upstairs, into his room and closed the door behind him, resting against it. His heart was racing. He felt like kicking something over. What was wrong with him? He hadn't felt angry like this in years. His eyes burned. He put his hand over his eyes. Why was he a priest at all?

Richards took his leave, and Malachi had half a mind to follow him. His eyes followed the younger priest's departure, staring after him even once he'd disappeared from the room. Had he more confidence in Francis' ability not to stir up any more trouble, even with the barrier of language between the beggar and Chéri, he might have tried to at least make sure that Richards was alright...

...but as his gaze slid slowly back to his little collection of strays, Malachi opted against it. Best not to leave them alone.

"I asked you not to tease," he scolded, but his tone failed to convey much in the way of true frustration. Irritated as he'd gotten himself with Francis before, he found difficulty in holding anything against him, and was somewhat surprised that a man as supposedly kind as Father Richards felt differently. Francis was... a terror. True. But Malachi could understand why.

With a glance at Chéri, he waved a hand at the rest of the food laid out before them. More so than when he'd walked in, Malachi looked tired.

"Have more, Chéri," Malachi encouraged, and then in English, "both of you. Don't worry about him."

Chéri looked somewhat amused when Francis spoke to Father Brennan, even though he couldn’t actually understand. Their reaction was probably based on gut feeling.

And just like that, Father Richards left. Chéri turned to Francis. They couldn’t communicate directly, not per words, but an impressed look required no translation. It said You are fast. And even though they didn’t understand Francis joke in their hear, when he made it, Chéri laughed. They always knew when to laugh at a man’s joke. Was that a defiant look on their face when Malachi reprimanded Francis? Apparently Chéri also always knew when someone was being reprimanded.

“Yes, Father” they obediently replied when Malachi gave them an indication, their tone absolutely flat while their face stayed amused, even a little too much. “I’ll leave right after I am done.” They promised: somehow, they got the feeling they had contributed to distrupt the harmony. What little of it was left anyway.

Francis smiled as Chéri laughed even though he knew they didn't understand him. He looked at Brennan and pouted as he didn't hesitate to eat. "I didn't say a word! It was a reasonable question! If cheri was the cook I could have helped." He pleaded even though he totally thought cheri was there to warm one of their beds. He honestly thought it was the other one. But he would not be totally surprised to be wrong.

What was that look for? Had he wronged Chéri as well, or had everyone conspired against him without his notice before he had entered the room? Malachi lifted a brow, but Francis once again distracted him.

"Mm," he hummed in disbelief. No, he did not believe for one second that Francis had been asking a genuine question.

"In any case, I think it would be best if you avoided Father Richards when possible. While I don't fully agree with him..." Malachi glanced at the empty doorway. "It is not in any of our best interests to aggravate him further."

He supposed it did not matter much to Francis whether the other priest was upset with any of them or not, but the less difficult his life had to be, the better.

Returning his focus to Chéri, Malachi assured in French, "you don't have to rush. Take as long as you need."

Chéri kept eating and let them make remarks about themselves. They probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. People thought what they wanted about them and there was very little they could do to control that, they knew, they had just accepted it. They would have potentially joked about it, had Malachi not been there.

Malachi, who unexpectedly reacted at their look. Wow, there had been an actual movement, not just a semblance of one. As a response that probably didn’t come across less defiant, Chéri put on a small, warm smile, before eating another slice of bread.

They then left the preacher to do his preaching to what he knew to be deaf ears. Even without any English, they knew Francis wasn’t going to listen to whatever Malachi was about to say. They didn’t actually know, but they felt their guess was pretty good.

Then, oddly enough, Malachi reassured Chéri, who now looked confused. “Are you sure?” They very much seem to doubt. “Because the place looks pretty fool to me.” Of pettiness at the very least.

Francis frowned at Father Brennan like a child who had been punished for something they didn't do.

"I didn't even go to him. I came for breakfast. And there was nothing in my question that was out of line. Whatever I thought, could be different but it didn't come out of my mouth. I don't wanna go following after Father Eichards. He just doesn't like me and he'd have taken anything I said wrong." He said quickly in defending himself.

Most of it was true, he believed. Of course his question had been laced with innuendo in his mind but he had been good and not voiced it. And he certainly hadn't asked for anything more . He pouted but shoved some extra food in his mouth before standing up.

"Ah duh havba dah jhis, ahm gohha gha doa ha hurck dha quea."* He said with his mouth spewing crumbs before he turned to leave the room. He also was already getting full and wanted to leave before Brennan could reconsider letting him stay there.


*'I don't have to take this, I'm gonna go to the church to clean.'

Before he could answer the youth's doubtful inquiry, the beggar spouted his discontent. A frown crossed Malachi's face as he listened, but he let the man speak without interruption. Francis was so quick to defend himself, but Malachi had meant no animosity in his cautionary words... nor had he meant to upset Father Richards, nor cause the blatant distrust and defiance in Chéri.

This was what he got for trying to be nice.

He did not try to counter Francis' argument in the end. The beggar could think whatever he wanted, but Richards likely wouldn't have been so upset with him if he had not teased the priest beyond his limits in the first place. (Or, that's what Malachi hoped, but considering Richards' reaction to Chéri...)

"Alright," sighed Malachi. Rising from his chair as well, he gestured to the rest of the food again.

"Yes, I am sure," he answered belatedly, his tone flat. "Please eat as much as you want before you go. If you have trouble finding a proper place to stay, you are welcome to come back until you do."

It did not seem likely that the youth would return, given their reaction to the little incident, but he extended the offer nonetheless. Looking about as enthused as he'd sounded, with an irritated air to his tall posture, Malachi dipped his head and turned to leave.

Chéri could feel the end of the breakfast approaching, so they turned, placed a hand on Francis’s shoulder and gave him a pat on the chest with his other hand, the sort of gesture one would use with a mate, to show them they had had fun before it was almost time to go. They also smiled favourably and did a gesture with their head, a open and honest expression on their face. They were saying Goodbye, it has been a pleasure to meet you, I’m sure you’ll do well and it was clear without words.

And as Malachi added that, Chéri felt compelled to make their own, snarky remark “so actually no. Only if I am really desperate.” Chéri concluded. They got themselves another slice of bread, got up and were out of the room before anyone else. “Adieu” they added, half way through their last slice of bread.