From his… encounter?

Malachi looked down at her then, catching her gaze already fixed upon him. If anything, his ‘encounter’ had only lifted his spirits, for the few short minutes it had lasted. He had only lifted his spirits. To think that the detective could have been the source of his distress – while it was not entirely untrue, it was a storm he was willing to weather.

God. He needed to be focusing on God. God and the church and- Nettie, who so caringly tried to tend to him despite his every effort not to be tended to.

“I’m well enough,” he insisted. “But you’re right. I should rest.”

He wouldn’t rest. He’d hardly been able to sit still in that room since the detective had left it. It felt emptier, for having held life beyond his own.

Betraying his better judgement, Malachi glanced behind them. Caught but a glimpse of the siblings walking at a distance, and turned forward again, expression unchanged.

“Walk me home,” Malachi agreed, guiding her in the direction of the church.