Malachi strolled in behind James, glancing about the interior of the station. It was nicer than he had expected, given the service provided by a certain constable-on-loan.

He had never actually been inside of a constabulary before. Hardly had much contact with constables either, besides the ones that visited his churches.

The priest moved to sit, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands over his knee.

"How does this work, constable?" he inquired, dark brows lifted in a curious expression. "I've never submitted a report."