This woman was really just breaking a window in broad daylight. With someone around to witness it, too. Said witness appeared to be in her own state of intoxication, and thus Malachi worried little about what her words could do, but she was present for the crime all the same.

Once his "mother" had chosen her window and set to tapping it with her stick, he moved to stand behind her, casting another glance out to the other woman in the alley. Malachi stood with his body angled to cover the window from view, but there was nothing he could do about that sound.

Crack.

Glass cracking outward from a center-point and then collapsing, in a mess of razor-sharp shards, over the windowpane and the ground. Distinctive sound, that.

Malachi stepped closer to the window and brushed the biggest shards away with his sleeve. He certainly hoped she didn't intend on getting him in there, because fuck if he could fit through there without causing a whole lot more of a racket. A hiss escaped him as a bit of glass sliced the side of his hand when he knocked more of it away.

Shallow cut, but it stung.

He'd stepped away to take a look at it when he heard the other woman speak up.

"Yes," answered Malachi. "Father Stanley Merritt."

His hand lifted to his mouth, and he licked away the blood that'd welled up from the cut.

"Need any help?" he questioned the drunken woman behind him, but kept his gaze on the one in front of him.