Zechariah fixed Crane with an utterly flat look, willing him by power of gaze to put assemble all the pieces he had so carefully laid out.

Warmer, warmer- mmph. No such luck.

He buffed his meticulously filed nails on his collar.

“Yes,” he answered, an unvoiced ‘but’ lingering before he continued on. “It will pass. You know that already. Those words are not even worth the ink on paper, after all.”

Elijah nodded though he felt there was more the other man was trying to say.

"You're right, I hope. You have things together so whatever anyone could have claimed about you has passed. Thanks..." he smiled slightly. "I feel better. I'm not able to keep my composure as well as you but I'll manage through this, somehow. "

Oh, God. He was equal parts relieved and mortified that his insinuations blew right over Crane’s tall head. Zechariah blinked, though was otherwise outwardly unexpressive.

“You will see this to the other end before you know it,” Zechariah reassured with a pinched smile.

He picked the folder up again, one-handed, and stood. Then, Zechariah slapped Elijah on the shoulder … and lingered.

“Just imagine your accusers naked,” he said confidently. “Shivering, humiliated. Erect at the sight of you. Even the men.”

Especially the men.

Elijah nodded and looked at him gratefully. He placed his hand over his. "Your words have really helped. I can't thank you enough. I will try that." He chuckled slightly. "Perhaps if I find myself in legal trouble you'll have the time to help me. I just hope I can afford you." He grinned weakly as he released his hand from the other man's.

Crane placed a hand on his, and Zechariah studied it with an intense look. When Crane started to withdraw his hand, he caught it in his and drew it close to his mouth. His eyes stayed fixed on Crane’s.

“You could not afford me,” Zechariah said, voice low as his thumb ran over the back of his hand. “Which makes it quite auspicious that I would not charge you for my help.”

Elijah was surprised when he caught his hand. He stared at his face though he took definite note of the gentle touch, it reminded him of that moment with Gabriel. Then he spoke, and his eyes widened. He felt his cheeks warm and maybe that was even more surprising.

"Zechariah? You..." He was? He was! "I.." What on earth could he say to that? Just finding out was shocking but this moment. He felt frozen though he knew he should do something, he had no idea what. "I had no idea..." he finally managed.

In all his fantasies, Zechariah had not considered one very, very possible notion: that Not-Richard would not be as delighted in person as his letters implied. That he would see their nature as something to be ashamed of, rather than as something others should be ashamed for hating.

Crane froze, and Zechariah withdrew his hand with a guarded look. He had not felt the shame as strongly as some, certainly – but he had still felt it enough to flee his homeland and hide it from his family. Still felt it like Crane’s gloved fingers were soaked in shame, shame, shame.

“There are more of us than you think,” Zechariah said, smiling but flat.

More than he thought, but none of them wrote like Crane.

Elijah saw his look and his hand released. He shook hisnhead quickly and looked very apologetic.

"I am sorry! I am surprised. I mean, I know I've not heard of you with a woman but I'd never made that assumption. Between the church and the papers, it felt dangerous to.. I am realizing that now." The priest had said the exact same thing.

He looked down and stood up. "I got coffee on your hand.." he wanted to change the subject so that Zechariah wouldn't look at him like that. He was being rejected when he hadn't even realized what was going on.

"I'm a blind fool, alright. It's the story of my life and..I don't know how to make that up to you or how to change. Or what you or anyone else wants from me. Let me wash my gloves and you can clean your hand in the sink and you can lay into me all the ways I've disappointed you. Trust me, I'm good at letting people down. The least I can do is have you let out your frustrations on me." He said with a sad sigh as he walked to the back room but wasn't sure the other would follow.

Oh, God. Never saw him with a woman. He truly needed to … do something about that. Check up on that damned prostitute and get it over with.

Zechariah glanced down to his white gloved hand, and then back to Elijah. He went through a lot of gloves, though it was still a shame. Perhaps he could channel his disappointment into that instead of the absolute disinterest Not-Richard had in him.

There was a slight, sympathetic nod at ‘blind fool,’ the start of a quizzical tilt at ‘make it up to him’. A raise of the brows at his sudden demands to … flog him? Literally? He handed his own gloves off to Crane and stared at his retreating back.

… Was he coming on to him?

Zechariah glanced suspiciously to the front door. Then, content, slunk after Crane like a lynx who had found his next meal. He crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway, peering with a … slightly hungry look.

“You should stop by, tonight,” Zechariah said, pleasantly.

Elijah wished his mind could settle so he could think clearly about the situation. Between the discovery of the ad and Zechariah's... interest? Interest in him maybe? He had too much to think clearly.

He stood at the sink and poured a little water into a basin and grabbed some soap to carefully wash the gloves. He was nervous but it had to be done. He slowly took off his own and started to clean the white pair carefully before he could begin on his own.

He heard the other's voice and relief? Something else? Came to him, and he glanced over to the other and then back down to focus on the task. He needed a second to think, just one at least. While the constable naturally wanted to ask why out of curiosity, the last few words between them made it feel very narrow in options. Also, he just spoke of owing him so anything else but what he said felt dismissive to his feelings.

"A-alright. I'll be there, is there a certain time you want me to arrive?" He asked. It didn't feel like himself responding. It had the right reply though. "I'm always happy to see you." That was true as he'd gotten decently along with the lawyer though until now it had definitely always been professional. Now, he had literally no true idea what he was agreeing to.

With a nervous breath, he grabbed a towel to carefully dry the white gloves and turned to the other man to present the still slightly damp pair with his own ungloved hands. He couldn't help stare at them until looking up at the other. "Sorry they aren't dry yet, at least they are clean. I'd feel terrible if they stained."