Malachi was a patient man, almost endlessly so. His patience for the faithless even eclipsed what he had for the faithful, for he could tolerate their doubts and criticisms long before the self-important rhetoric of those that claimed belief. And he knew that this man was in pain, terrible pain, and that his fellow servants of the Lord must have treated him unkindly. Unfairly, in spite of God's own words to love one another.

But naïve?

Malachi was not naïve.

How could any priest be, when so many turned to them to confess the worst parts of their souls? How could he be, as a man that had once faced similar persecution as this bitter man beside him? Because he donned the garb of an inexperienced, and naïve, and holy man, did that have to mean he was one?

Yet Mister Tully's commentary proved that he could still see otherwise. That he had seen the darkness in those that were meant to carry the light, and Malachi did not try to dispel it. It was true. It still was not the only truth.

"I suppose there isn't any difference," he answered. "His plan is the truth of the world."

Malachi was quiet then, aware that it was likely not any kind of answer the man was looking for.

"But... for as long as I am here, Mister Tully, I will do my best to help you. Before you rely on the kindness of wolves, please know that I am here for you to lean on. Anytime you can help us here, I hope that you do, but there is a place for you here regardless of what you can give in return."