Tully might have felt comfortable enough to wear a smirk now, but Malachi couldn’t help but frown as he continued on.

There was a lull, a drag that seemed to suggest that he was considering the things Tully said. None of it had been because of his belief in God, nor because of the way that believers treated their priests.

“Well. You are entitled to that opinion, of course,” he ceded. He was not here to convince Tully that priests were all deserving of trust and respect for the simple fact of being a priest, and he had neither the energy nor the desire to say anything on the nature of God when he no longer felt confident about it himself.

Malachi was fully aware that his position now was one of many privileges, but it certainly hadn’t always been that way. Not that the truth of it was anything he dared share with Tully – he’d already seen that the man was more than willing to use any ammunition he gave him.

“I know that you don’t like me, Mr. Tully,” and really, who besides children truly did?

“And that’s alright, I don’t expect you to. But I appreciate that you were willing to listen.”