They were so... young.

It was the first thing that clawed at his mind when they turned, eyes as bright and colorful as his were void and dark. They reflected morning light, while he absorbed it. As fine-featured as they were, as prim and proud as they carried themselves, he could not help but think of how desirable a target they must be out in the world. Outside of whatever safety their former caretaker had provided.

Malachi did not look away, though a part of him wanted to.

Whatever reaction they might have been expecting of him, upon hearing their admission, what he offered instead was...

...nothing. Not the slightest indication of surprise or disgust, not even a blink. Instead, a low hum conveyed his acknowledgement.

There were all kinds of entertainers. He knew that as well as anyone else, and whether they meant it as a label of creative pride or of something less appropriate, Malachi had no intention of treating them any differently.

"You must be very talented, if you made a whole career of it," he offered, without any apparent distinction as to which of their talents he meant. It didn't matter. Skill was skill, no matter the medium. Malachi was quiet for a moment after, as he considered their request.

How many hungry people could he feed before Mrs. Higgins said something about it? It wasn't as if he carried around a bunch of money to offer them, to let them buy themselves a proper meal elsewhere. Helping those in need was what the church was supposed to do, and Malachi would not deny someone assistance.

"If that is what you need, I can at least help with that. What is your name?"