...

A smile crept across Malachi's face, breaking the illusion of neutrality he'd gathered around himself.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, though he disagreed entirely.

Father Richards was... ah, what word would he use for it? He mulled it over, watching the younger priest while he did.

Cute. Father Richards was cute, in the way that baby animals were cute in their clumsy little ways. Was the concussion getting to him, or was he always so awkward?

"I appreciate speaking with you, father, but I suppose I should settle in before dinner. Would you mind showing me to my room?"

Malachi didn't care about seeing it, could probably find it himself just fine, but he'd give Father Richards an excuse to go rest himself nonetheless.