Aslan still chewed clove rocks and cracked the window, but now his bedroom smelled like lavender, too.

He kind of hated it. But he’d told Malachi he would … and he’d gotten under his skin enough to find the parts of him that missed not living a lie. Parts that had settled easier undisturbed, unquestioned by anyone he felt particularly inclined to answer to. He also hoped it would have some sort of cosmic effect on Malachi, compelling him to cover those edges or at least start a different path.

… No more lovers, but especially no more older men. He’d never had this problem with men, or even women his own age.

Speaking of women his own age – Nisa. It was time to pick up Nisa, and pray she’d found a friendship that couldn’t be tossed out and cleaned up as easily as another maid. The last circumstances had been worse than usual: she was donned in a bragging black, with a fresh hire in tow. The new woman … he wasn’t sure what to make of her, let alone whether to. Not like he could save every bird who fluttered through Nisa’s domain, after all.

Aslan was often the first of chaperons to arrive, probably on account of most of the others’ not being worried about someone disappearing if he ran a little late. He had noticed a couple of women who seemed to walk home on their own … and that put him on edge most of all.

So, Aslan knocked on the host’s front door to announce himself, and was let in by the butler. Hung his bowler hat on the hat stand (for it could be a while) to the sitting room in front. He could hear women talking, laughing, up the stairs as he passed.

There were chairs and sofas, and all the chaperons thus far had been too polite to claim said sofas rather chairs. He half-hoped the impropriety of sitting dead center in the most comfortable one would launch Nisa into an adequate kin-slaying rage, and so there he sprawled.

Malachi had killed his father, too. He wondered what his father was li-… bad, Aslan. He was determined not to look back.

Nisa had called her murderous intent for the moment. Her new maid was polite and great at her job, and no one had maliciously crossed her path. So she was in good humor at the embroidering club. The atmosphere was cool in temperament though she occasionally felt the passive aggression so thick it crawled along her skin like bugs. She didn't say anything though and blocked it out, but she remembered their faces, just in case.

When she returned to the main room, she was walking with a few women. Helen from a boarding house in town had come with a couple of her girls, including one named Nettie that she had started to talk to. It seemed they both has male relatives close in their lives and either no parents or little to speak of.

She paused at the door frame when she noticed him, not only in an unrespectable seat, but strewn out like he was the next coming of Dionysus. She flattened her lips and cleared her throat. "Brother, how good to... see you." He usually was not around but he knew how to act in company. Something was strange.

Nettie had been having such a wonderful time. She was meeting new ladies and they were telling her so much about Whitby. It made her all the happier her uncle wanted to settle down there. She may or may not have talked him up a lot to them even if they didn't go to the church, they would give him a kind word on the street and help him feel welcomed.

Helen was wonderful in acting as a guide and mentor for her in places malachi couldn't completely fill. So she had suggested this class to help sharpen her skills before she opened her small at home business. And it was useful, she now had a handkerchief with a brilliant blood red flower like a crocus she wanted to give to him as thank you for all he had done.

When they came to the main room, another new acquaintance she'd been speaking to, stopped and looked at a gentleman who was sitting there looking quite relaxed. She thought perhaps he was a husband or courting one of the ladies, as he was handsome enough. But then she spoke and called him brother, sounding quite disappointed. She wanted to lighten the sudden heaviness in the mood, so she stepped forward to him and gave a little polite bow.

"Oh, Nisa 's brother? It is lovely to meet you. I am Nettie." She was going to offer her last name but it seemed so formal to what had felt so casual and fun just moments ago.

Divinity fit Malachi like a well-tailored glove, hollowed out and conformed to his shape. It ended with the tips of his fingers and reached only so far as he did; a blanket of protection that sealed him in as well as it kept all else out. A barrier, made empty without his warmth. A fabric spun into the illusion of real skin.

The cassock didn’t fit him anymore.

It hadn’t changed since he’d pulled it on. It still ended at his wrists and ankles, and carved a looming silhouette. It looked darker, or perhaps his skin had paled; a starless night sky against swirls of purple and green and blue that still littered his form. Most of them were covered. One dared extend to his hand, while another painted the corner of his forehead beneath a healing wound.

The hand slipped into his pocket. The other pushed his hair to the side, obscuring any color.

No, the cassock hadn’t changed at all. It was Malachi that looked wrong wearing it.

A rap of his knuckles against the door brought a butler to see him in.

If anything had brought any solace to him as of late, it was Nettie’s efforts to settle comfortably into Whitby. Malachi didn’t know shit about embroidery, but he’d been glad to hear her interest in attending a club devoted to it. With any hope, she’d make some friends – she was more than pleasant enough to be around, and there was no reason for anyone not to like her.

How had he raised such a kind and well-adjusted woman?

It was… a wonder, to say the least. But he did take pride in it. In her, and all the things that she could be.

Malachi passed by the stairs, heard voices in the room he was heading to – Nettie’s voice? – and entered the sitting room quietly, but a shadow that wished not to impose.

“Nettie?”

The women were crowding in a doorway, and he saw Nettie-

-… saw her…

…oh God.

Was it too late to turn around and wait outside? Had anyone seen him? Heard him? Well he was coughing now. Nearly choked on his own spit. Malachi turned, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow as he found his breath. Why was he here? Why was Nettie talking to him?

He wasn’t coughing anymore, but he stayed turned away. As if that would magically erase him from everyone’s sight.

The minute rebellion lasted all of a glance, before he was straightening up and clasping his hands in front of himself instead of splayed out like a raven in flight across the back of the couch. Nisa did not come alone, which he found himself of two minds on.

“It is good to see you, too, Nisa,” he said, a line that had collected some dust in recent years.

He had the shadow of stubble on his face, but otherwise looked the picture of a man who intended to impress. The well-groomed man was less likely to attract suspicion, after all.

She arrived with a gaggle of women … one of whom looked intent on making the mistake of introducing herself. A stunning woman, at that. This could not end well. He rose but met her gaze coolly, keeping his gloved hands locked together with his own fingers.

“A pleasure, Nettie,” he responded politely, disinterestedly, foregoing any introduction of himself.

It was not, in fact, a pleasure. She was probably going to die soon. Would she be another washroom girl?

He heard the front door. Hoped that whoever that was was coming to take this Nettie, before Nisa could.

His prayer was answered with a nightmare instead. Aslan registered the voice before the name, but the name came crashing over him in short order. He saw him. Oh, he saw him. Aslan’s eyes went from his face, to his Roman collar, to his face once more. Supposed the lavender didn’t have cosmic sway after all. His gaze was cool, guarded – much like the first night they had met. Like they were strangers.

If they were strangers, Malachi might not get his stupid death wish.

He had not, however, accounted for Malachi losing his composure in a public setting. Aslan played at a baffled look before feigning politely looking away from this clearly, strangely flustered man.

Nettie. He supposed she was Catholic, then? Perhaps another little bird with no family to see to her well-being? Were they, too, involved? The reasonable thing to do would be to disengage as quickly and politely as possible, before Aslan’s Nisa’s temper had a chance to fray further.

“Which way are you headed?” he asked Nettie, pleasantly.

But did Nisa really want to leave a woman as pretty as her on the loose?

Nettie nodded politely towards her new friend, Nisa's brother. The guy seemed cold to her, but not everyone was friendly, so she still gave him a warm, welcoming smile until she heard the voice of Malachi. Her head turned as he began to cough.

"Ah, was hoping to - I am sorry.." She immediately turned. "Uncle!" She moved to him and took his arm, looking up in worry. She glanced to the others. "I am so sorry, this is my uncle, Father Brennan. I told you all about him." She smiled slightly, hoping they would help him feel welcomed in town. At the moment though she was concerned. "Ah you look like you aren't eating again, that church is so rough on you. " She shook her head and gently tried to lead him further into the house. "Let's get you some water. That cough sounds terrible, perhaps you are catching something. Should I start cooking for you?" She offered, the concern in her voice grew.

He was so shy around others sometimes, she didn't know how he handled being a priest so naturally. The paleness was worrying and he looked thinner. He couldn't afford to lose more weight he was already so skinny. As usual, she was going in to caring mode and wanted to help and heal him. "They won't mind getting us something to drink for you."

Nisa was silent as she watched, her eyes moving from one character in this strange scenario to the other. Her brother fixed himself immediately, though it didn't cure what had happened. She stood by his side as he introduced himself to Nettie. That girl was talkative and bold, but so far she had been mostly polite.

Her uncle was another story all together. The girl had spoken very highly of the priest, she'd expected better. He ruined the calm mood with his cough like he was dying. She watched him intently and then his niece caused another faux pas. She interrupted the conversation and stepped away. It was in concern for the other man, and she did apologize knowing she was wrong. Luckily for the girl, Nisa had others higher on her list of deserving to be silenced.

"Nice to meet you, Father Brennan." She said calmly as the woman tried to lead the older man away and her eyes immediately moved to her brother. "Have you slept?" Perhaps another all nighter was the reason for his mood. He always hid when he came home, it was lucky for him she'd been preoccupied enough she didn't feel like waiting up all night to watch for him.

What had his plan been? To wait until Nettie had finished speaking with any newly-acquired friends and acquaintances, and then walk her home, or wherever else she wanted. What had he managed instead?

Ah, yes. To draw the attention of the entire room, and to earn a number of coolly-distanced looks while he was at it. He might have felt embarrassment if he had not been overwhelmed by all the other fuckery in the room right now. Such as: a certain detective, engaging Nettie in some sort of conversation.

What was he here for? Were… one of these women, were they his? A wife? Sister? He was too young to have fathered any of them. In fact, Malachi could have mistaken him for Nettie’s…

Oh God, he probably was her age!

Had it not been for Nettie’s quick attendance to him, he might have tried to dip out of the sitting room before he made things any worse. As it was, though, Malachi coughed once more – smudged the blood into the dark fabric, nearly hiding it – and composed himself after that. Setting a hand at Nettie’s shoulder, he offered her an awkward smile.

“Please, I’m fine. Just caught something in my throat.”

But not nearly enough of what he wanted in there.

Besides, there was a unique sort of embarrassment that came from having his issues aired in front of these women and… and him. Nettie was only concerned, he knew, but why did she have to mention his eating, and the church, and- oh, what did it even matter? Malachi glanced back to the others, keeping his eyes off of the detective.

“My apologies for the noise,” he said with a dip of his head. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

He guessed. Didn’t know who she was. His focus returned to his niece, seeing as the woman took to speaking to… his handsome detective. No- no. The. The detective. The man he didn’t know, clearly, if that cruel look he’d given him had been anything to go by.

“Truly, I’m alright,” Malachi assured, voice falling to a quieter tone. “If you wanted to stay and speak with any of them, I can wait outside.”

… Uncle? She looked nothing like him, but then Aslan and Nisa had taken dramatically after their father and mother respectively. His gaze shifted to Nisa when Nettie mentioned having told her all about him. Fuck fuck fuck. What did she know? Did she know where to find him if she decided coughing was too offensive?

If she noticed something, anything, that hinted at more than just-met? He tried to pretend he wasn’t eagerly eavesdropping on every word out of Nettie’s mouth, even as Nisa quietly weighed just how much she wanted to kill him this given evening.

Then that deep, smooth voice spoke again, and he allowed himself to turn his head to acknowledge it. Aslan set an arm easily about her shoulders, in part to get ahead of her habit of hanging like an unbreakable manacle off his arm.

“Ah, no – I apologize,” he answered with a practiced gentle. “I’m sure I’m not easy to be around right now. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

Then there was Malachi, singing that same swan song: let him die, it was fine, he never wanted to deal with a career change anyway.

“I’m sure they can spare you some water, Father,” Aslan laughed, though there was a judgmental look behind it. “Besides – it is not the best street to be found lurking alone.”

Which likely meant nothing to Malachi ‘I’m going to wander into an alley and get mugged’ Brennan, but he was more than happy to utilize his niece’s concern.

Nettie sighed as she looked at Malachi, the worry only grew. She never wished to push him though. "If you're certain. I really think a little water wouldn't hurt, but..." She looked towards the man who was Nisa's brother and nodded.

"There isn't much to say, we spent a lot of time talking before now and we introduced ourselves so I can meet up with them later. If you're ready to go, we can go. Thank you for picking me up. If I had known.." She quieted but watched him carefully. She gave him a reassuring smile. "How about we just go. I'll go say goodbye to everyone first?" Nettie offered. He normally was a little friendlier, her poor uncle must be really sick. She spoke lower, "I am concerned. Are you sure you're alright? I can get a doctor.." He tried to never worry her, she knew that much. And it worried the young woman that she could lose her uncle due to how much he seemed to neglect his own health and Nettie could not let that happen.