Malachi’s steps came to a halt. With a turn of his head, he fixed a dissatisfied (or was it disappointed?) look on Edmund.

In all likelihood, the boy was right. Whoever ran the hotel was most likely accustomed to a different sort of patron. Did that mean that a young man and his tired sister, down on their luck, were not allowed to take shelter there? That their place was on the street, or better yet- in the alley between this building and the next?

He didn’t care what the owners thought. Didn’t care what anyone else thought about it either. It was a safe place with beds and with any hope, it would have anything else the kids needed too. If it didn’t? He’d make sure that whoever was working – prejudiced or otherwise – was paid well enough to ensure that it did.

“And what’s wrong with kids like you and Mable?”

His tone was far from accusatory, but it was pointed. It had already decided the answer: nothing.

Malachi didn’t bother to hide the concern that had crossed his face, highlighted by the stars and moon above.

“You’re just as good as any other customer,” he insisted, and was surprised by the defensiveness in his own voice. “If they say a word suggesting otherwise, I’ll take care of it.”

Edmund had neglected to answer his other question. He did not ask it again, but instead told himself to remember to have them fed regardless of the lack of answer.

“If you’re really not comfortable here, we’ll find somewhere else. But please don’t let something like that make your decision, Eddie.”

Something in Edmund froze at the sight of the bigger, taller Father Brennan giving him a troubled look at the turn of his head.  He paused mid-step, worried - for what, he couldn't say.

Had his words offended the man in some way?  He didn't think his words could have been taken as an insult, unless he was offended on his and Mable's behalf.  The father's tone was form, but not unkind, and yet Edmund averted his eyes.  He wanted to badly to say something in reply.  What do you think is wrong with kids like me and Mable?  Isn't it obvious?  Isn't that why you approached us to begin with?  But the nerve left as soon as the elder's heavy gaze landed on him.

"This place is fine, Father, but please don't spend too much..."  Edmund would avoid directly bringing up his desire to pay the man back for fear of being shot down again, but his stomach curled as he thought about what it might take already.

Physically shaking the thought away to worry about another time, the boy met the Father's eyes before dropping his to the man's shoes.

"We'll be out here 'til you're done.  Thank you."

Ah, shit. He hadn’t meant to spook the poor kid.

It was by no intention of his own that Malachi’s general state of being was an intimidating one. In the church it served him well, propped up straight and tall as a statue behind the altar. The Lord was all-powerful, frightening; there was a thought within some congregations that the priestly embodiments of him should strike fear into mortal hearts too.

He would have been happier to break the length of his legs and stand level with everyone else.

“Don’t concern yourself with that. I won’t,” but he would. It wouldn’t make that much of a difference to him that he did, either, but money meant a lot to those without free-of-charge, God-given lodgings.

Malachi turned to face the hotel. Gave a nod in response, though he didn’t want to be thanked for it.

With that, the priest went through the door and disappeared. It was late, probably later than anyone at the hotel wanted to deal with him, but there were hours still before the sun came up.

When he returned several long minutes later, he stepped back out into the night breeze with his hands hidden away in the pockets of his cassock.

“Alright,” Malachi breathed, “you have a room for as long as you need it. Nobody should bother you, but someone should be bringing some food by soon. I don’t know what. Here, where did I…”

He felt around in his pockets, and moments later pulled out a key to hand it over. Kept his other hand, lacking a few certain pieces of jewelry, in his pocket. Didn’t need Edmund worrying over that.

It shouldn't be in a holy man's nature to lie, but Edmund did not entirely believe that Father Brennan would be frugal with his and Mable's room.  Still, he stayed quiet as he watched the man enter the inn.  Alone now in the night, Edmund leaned against the building, sliding down gently as he could until he was sitting on the cold cobblestone ground.

In his absence, Edmund considered Father Brennan.  More specifically, his title.  It was strange to call someone other than Lloyd Greene by it, but doing so also felt unexpectedly good.  Part of it was taking the meaning Lloyd had poisoned the word with and cleaning it away, stripping all context from it completely.

There was also comfort in the fact that, one way or another, Father Brennan had earned his right to be called so, not just by bearing children.

Using the hand that had been supporting Mable's legs when walking, Edmund traced lines gently over his sister's face to wake her up slowly, figuring she'd have to be woken eventually to eat.  When it didn't work immediately, Edmund murmured her name, repeating it until her eyes fluttered open.

She made a number of quiet whines, all possibly words Edmund just couldn't decipher.  He smiled softly, letting her vent as long as she needed before he spoke.

"We're getting a bed and some dinner in a minute here.  I met someone while you were asleep - think you'll be able to walk by yourself?"

The girl grunted in response, but wiggled enough to move from her brother's lap.  Edmund stood, supporting himself again on the wall and helping his sister up just as Father Brennan returned.

As long as they needed it..?  And food too?  Christ, Edmund didn't want to think about what that might have cost the man right now.  He took the key with careful fingers, keeping it in his grip as if the moment he let it go, he'd lose it.  Behind him, Mable blinked and squinted at the stranger before her, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Father," Edmund said, quiet but earnest.  "You've been too kind to us tonight."  I'm in your debt, he didn't say, but thought it firmly to himself.

"Where - if we want to find you again, where should we look?"  At this, Edmund beckoned his sister forward with his free hand, hoping she was aware enough to be able to remember any directions offered to them.  Edmund would do his best, but he was useless at interpreting them.

The girl had risen in the meantime, and Malachi afforded her what he hoped was a friendly enough smile. It had been a while now since Nettie had been that young, and he’d had to maneuver parts of his life around what was best for a growing girl. He still spoke with plenty in his parishes, that was a given, but he was hyperaware, too, of how much scarier he might appear to them when he already scared grown men.

At least children tended to like him in spite of it.

Edmund’s quiet words of gratitude brought his attention back to the older sibling, and Malachi fought the urge to dismiss them. They were unnecessary. Any decent person would have done the same thing, he thought, but then… he supposed decent people didn’t exist in excess.

“It’s not a problem,” he insisted instead. He’d let the boy have his thanks.

“I’m usually at the church – St. Hilda’s. It’s close to here, actually,” and the priest turned, casting his gaze down the street to point in the general direction of it.

“Follow the road we came from, go left before the bridge, uh-... keep walking on that street until you see it. You shouldn't miss it.”

He hoped not anyway. It was nearer to the hotel than he had remembered, but that was good – it meant that he could come back and check in on them once the day was done.

Malachi turned back to them, and said, “you’re more than welcome to visit anytime you wish. And- if it’s alright with you two, I’d like to come back and make sure things are still going alright with the hotel.”

What he meant was I want to make sure you’re both still alright, but the hotel provided him with a better excuse.

Now that Mable was mostly awake, the similarities between the siblings was more obvious.  It showed more prominently in their physicality, the way they turned their heads in unison as Father Brennan looked down the street and gave directions, nodding just a beat off from each other.

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it seemed the only physical similarity between the two was the color of their eyes; a light, somber green.

"Of course," Edmund was saying, "you're welcome to come back any time you like.  We'd be happy to see you again."

He smiled, and it was mirrored by his younger sister, though a touch sleepier and spacey.

"Have a safe night, Father Brennan.  Please be safe."

The priest had been in town longer than Edmund, but only by two days.  Perhaps he would be able to handle himself better against attackers, but it was still dangerous.

But then, who would hurt a priest in uniform?

With one last wave, the boy lead his sister by the shoulder inside the hotel doors, keeping his head high but gaze averted from anyone who might have questioned his presence within.  Mable followed quietly after giving Father Brennan a similar wave, but open and closed her fist in a tired approximation of flair.  The door closed behind them, and then they were gone.

Malachi was quick to smile in return, pleased to see that both Edmund and Mable seemed in well enough spirits. Whatever their true reasons for leaving the states, he knew it must have been more of an ordeal to get here than any child needed to deal with, and while he could not fix any past troubles they might’ve had along the way… well, he had to start somewhere.

Making sure that they were safe from the elements and from all the other dangers of the street could be that start. For tonight, at least.

If he tried to help any more right now, he suspected Edmund wouldn’t let him.

So he dipped his head, offering a wave of his own.

“I always am,” Malachi lied, his smile verging on something sly before it softened at the edges.

“I’ll come by soon, then. Peace be with you both.”

He waited until Edmund and Mable had passed through the doors, if only to make sure that they actually did go in, but he did not linger after that.

Back to the church it was.