Malachi had long come to accept a few fundamental truths about life.

First, that people were always cruel. It did not matter how similar or different you were from them, in that regard, it only determined the methods of their cruelty. Whether an insult was based in fact or fiction, borne of jealousy or fear, whether it took flight with the wings of blind hatred or specialized itself to fill the holes in you that your differences bore; he was not alone in being disadvantaged.

Second, that he still had a life to live in spite of it.

Nettie's promises were optimistic, and largely unneeded, but Malachi appreciated them nonetheless. He did not require friends, nor any other connections really beyond those that served the church, but the romantic in him (ironic as it was) did not exactly enjoy the solitude he'd come to know either.

Malachi huffed, amused by the thought that Nettie would ever call herself boring.

"Hearing about your life could never bore me," he assured. "And besides, boring is good. It means nothing's going wrong."

It pained him just to say that, and he was sure Nettie knew. A priest's life was meant to be boring, but his life had been anything but, before the seminary. Malachi considered the question when it was returned, but... the only things of interest, to him, were things that should not exit a holy man's mouth.

"I've met some interesting people here," said Malachi. "I'm sure that you will too. This place seems to be full of them."

Whether the lot of them were interesting in a positive way or not... remained to be seen. But they stoked his curiosity all the same.

"A lovely bird flew into the church the other night, before it found its way out. I'm afraid that's the height of excitement around here -- I've been somewhat boring myself."