Crane raised an... interesting point, although one that Malachi did not put much consideration into.

It did not matter to him what thieves did with the things they took. If they sold them for drink, or to line their own pockets, it was not his place to judge them. On the contrary, he was there to guide them towards forgiveness.

"I'll keep that in mind," Malachi mused. The thought of Crane standing outside the church as some sort of crime deterrent... it amused him, but not enough to encourage such a thing. He was left alone on the couch after that, to finish off his tea and let his gaze resume its wandering of the room until Crane's return.

Malachi glanced at his emptied cup.

"Ah- no, it's quite alright, thank you."

It wasn't the tea's fault. He'd simply never developed a taste for most drinks.

"I must confess, though," he shifted where he sat, switching the placement of his legs so that he could better face the constable.

"I have difficulties believing that there could possibly be a darkness within you, constable. You are nothing but kind, from what I've seen."