"Somethin' I feel cheated out of," she agreed and examined the bottom of her glass before turning a look toward him but wasn't really looking at him. "I am a liedy, I shouldna be here." She numbly put the glass on the sill behind her where the decanter sat mostly empty. She shifted to and fro, unable to keep still. "I want a husband and a bairn, and here I am in a foocking brothel." She palmed her forehead. "Givin' my last bit o' dignity to ye upon a bottle of disgoostin brandy, wantin' things I canna have. What a waste." She scoffed at herself. "All because I wouldna marry a man I despised." She giggled, and then it turned into something else, a sob, perhaps. But she didn't break down, surprisingly enough.

Her hand dropped from her face and she blinked a few times. God, she was feeling giddy and stupid and... not with it. Of course, who would be after three glasses of generously poured alcohol?

Well, he supposed he could relate to her in that – he should not be there either – but Malachi had the benefit of not having arrived there to sell his services. He looked down into his glass as she continued, hazy eyes fixed on the way the light danced across the amber-colored liquid.

It was not until he heard a peculiar sound that he looked to her again. Was that… a giggle? A sob? Both?

Whatever it was, combined with what little brandy he’d consumed and whatever he’d taken before, it was enough to pull a similar noise from Malachi’s throat. Almost a giggle, if one could be procured from a voice such as his.

“It’s all rather ridiculous, isn’t it?”

He downed the rest of his brandy in one foul swoop. Sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut when it burned its way down his throat.

“Innocence, dignity… it’s all so rigid. Not everyone can remain as pure as a sheltered, wealthy young lady with no troubles. The rest of us should not be demonized for not being so lucky,” Malachi said, setting his emptied glass down. “You, miss, deserve a husband and a – a bairn, and everything else you want, whether you have ever worked in a brothel or not.”

"I thank ye for sayin' so!" she said almost emphatically. She hiccupped and leaned back into the couch, feeling kind of jointless. "Mmm, I think I've had enough brandy fer now." She didn't want anymore, she was drunk. That was clear enough by the way sort of just slouched.

"I wish I had those things," she murmured then, gazing up at the ceiling and a particular scene where nude women were painted. She was particularly fascinated by a scene off in the far corner that was probably more obscene than other things.

"I want ta know what it feels like ta choose fer myself."

Ahh, she thought as she slid a little further down, punctuated then by a hiccup.

Uh oh. Malachi sure wasn’t drunk yet, but the room still spun around him when he followed the woman’s gaze to the ceiling. From the images painted above them, he couldn’t tell what exactly she was wishing for.

He managed not to say, “…breasts?” only barely. What things did she want? He almost regretted taking that pill before he’d set out.

“…Yes,” was what he came up with. What was he supposed to say? Yes, you’re missing out, sex is great? What if she found out he was a priest saying that?

Malachi directed his gaze back down to her, where she practically slumped on the couch.

Cautious, he scooted a little closer to her, just to ask, “are you alright, miss? You should probably have some water.”

"That sounds lovely," she murmured and then blinked a few times as she realized he'd come closer to her. Hic. Hic. Hic. Hic. She was a bit more than tipsy by that point. "The ceilin' is spinnin'. Spinnin' bosoms everywhere!" Hicup, hic, hic. Her mouth pursed and she muttered, "I should sit up, but I canna do it." And then she burst into laughter, Ha, hic, ha, hic, ha!

Tears or mirth filled her eyes and she didn't even realize it until she felt the hot tracks of them dribbling toward her ears. "Och, lad, I don't *hic*know what is so funny."

Spinning bosoms… yes. Right. Malachi swallowed against a dry throat, unsure if he should be concerned for the woman’s incessant hiccupping or not.

She was not alright, that much was clear, but was she physically well?

A dark brow raised as he continued to watch her, eyes catching on the light that glinted off of her fresh tears. He’d not been called anything remotely resembling a lad since before the age of twelve!

“I don’t know either,” Malachi forced a laugh, if only to save her embarrassment.

“Let me help you sit up and find some water?”

He held his arms out toward her, hesitant to touch without permission.

"Mmmwaterhic."

She heaved a great sigh and did her best to sit up with his help. The dark eyed woman then squinted at him as if trying to focus on his face. But she couldn't... for there were two of him.

Oh, what a mess, she thought, then she said, "Perhaps I need something to eat too." That would definitely help. "Will you... will you... hic... tell them I need food?"

Not that she was hungry, but she realized her folly in drinking so much brandy.