Uh oh. Malachi sure wasn’t drunk yet, but the room still spun around him when he followed the woman’s gaze to the ceiling. From the images painted above them, he couldn’t tell what exactly she was wishing for.

He managed not to say, “…breasts?” only barely. What things did she want? He almost regretted taking that pill before he’d set out.

“…Yes,” was what he came up with. What was he supposed to say? Yes, you’re missing out, sex is great? What if she found out he was a priest saying that?

Malachi directed his gaze back down to her, where she practically slumped on the couch.

Cautious, he scooted a little closer to her, just to ask, “are you alright, miss? You should probably have some water.”