Malachi frowned, as if to spite him.

He could agree with one thing: only actions matter in the end.

What did it matter if the one taking action was good or bad at heart?

And what did it matter what means they took to achieve great things?

"Give me more to smile about, then," he practically huffed. He lifted his head and stepped closer, peering into the pot himself. While he watched the contents of it swirl around, Malachi continued:

"I would like for you to keep me informed, when you can, about things going on in town. Whatever the loudest rumors may be, whatever the constables are up to..."

Slowly, and without moving back from where he'd leaned to look into the pot, Malachi returned his gaze to Mister Tully's face.

"I like to know what I can about people. All people."

Malachi smiled. A warm, pleasant smile, or what could've been if it'd reached his eyes.

"I can make sure that you'll never have to rob a church again, if you do this for me."