Malachi couldn't have said what spurred on her confession, if her concern for him coupled with the time they'd spent apart had driven her to share or if it'd simply crossed her mind as they walked. It did not bother him to hear it (quite the opposite, in fact), but for all the comfort he found in her, he struggled in equal measure.

He had never been any better to her than she deserved, he knew that much. His meager contributions to her youth -- while considerable, compared to those of the rest of the family -- fell far behind the kind of care she had deserved, regardless of his efforts, because he had practically been a child himself. But her words were kind; she meant them, and that was all that mattered.

Beside her, the priest's shoulders tensed. A subtle shift, hardly any different from before.

She loved him, she said, and he knew it was true. Knew it was true, as he'd known for so long, and yet still the three words gave him pause. Playfully, Malachi nudged her arm with his own, careful not to let the touch linger.

"If I've been a great father figure, it's only because I've had such a perfect daughter figure to look out for," he said with a smile.

"I will be fine. I am fine, so please, leave the worrying to me and work on establishing yourself here. Your first job can be..."

Was he fine? Could he really be fine when he'd been allowing thoughts of a young man he didn't even know to predominate his thoughts since they'd 'met?' Slowed to a stop, Malachi pivoted towards the door of the shop he'd stopped in front of. Some sort of bakery, but he couldn't see into it all that well from outside.

"...Picking what to try first in here."