What a curious creature they were.

Malachi looked fully upon them and considered the question. Had they taken some offense at his words? Malachi did not feel any particular need to correct whatever they might have interpreted from what he'd said, especially when he had probably meant it. He preferred the way they looked at him now, devoid of niceties.

"From the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head, there was no blemish in him," recited Malachi, as he pushed his hands against his knees and straightened up. He looked down again, as he always did, if slightly closer than he had before.

"Absalom."

Malachi did not liken them to Absalom for that reason alone. A hint of a smile curved at his mouth, less polite in its appearance.

"Who did you think, Chéri?"

Chéri tilted their head to the side, once again.

Rather than sly, Chéri was now cold and merciless, over-focused. Had they become taller and stronger? It looked like their frame had changed. It was like multiple people had inhabited their body in the last few minutes and they all had reshaped it to their convenience.

Chéri probably did not understand the word “blemish”, but either they were familiar with the character or they were familiar with the general concept, because their eyes moved again, became thinner, maybe not suspicious, but they started to investigate.

“Absalom,” Chéri repeated that. In another situation, they would have asked if he wanted to use that name for them. Their very own version of this person. Chéri bent their head.

“You are telling me I am beautiful. But I don’t think le Seigneur wants to forgive me for that. I also have not rebelled against my brother. Is my sin being beautiful like He has made me, Father?” Chéri’s voice had gotten deeper and softer, appropriate for prayer.

"Did I mention any sin?"

Malachi lifted a brow at that. He still peered down at the youth, cold as they might have been. A body was only a body, no matter how it moved.

With a click of his tongue, Malachi turned his attention back to the fire.

Chéri was beautiful, he would not deny them that. They were beautiful in the way that clear skies were -- in a way that no one could refute, for it was just a part of what made them what they were. Malachi, however... preferred the gray skies of a storm.

In English, he inquired, "Shall I liken you to someone else instead?"

It was a rhetorical question regardless of the language. There were plenty of more obvious figures he could have mentioned in place of Absalom, but he had chosen him for a reason. Malachi looked back to Chéri with a hum, and returned to his use of French.

"Did you have enough to eat?"

"Who are those who might be afraid to be turned away from God, if not sinners?" Chéri asked, still distant. They then shook their head. They weren't good at this, not at their freshest. And despite their presentation, they were deeply ignorant and deeply aware of it.

And as Malachi placed his eyes to the fire, so did Chéri. In the end, their face ended up looking somewhere between sad and exhausted. Apparently they had given up on trying to keep any emotion or sign of fatigue invisible. It probably wasn't their natural state.

Malachi said something in English and Chéri rose their brows "I'm sorry?" They asked in confusion. Then Malachi went back to more mundane questions. Chéri now seemed so doubtful that they hesitated to answer even this. It took them at least a full minute for a mere "Yes."

There, thought Malachi, there's the heart of you.

The doubt, the fatigue. He observed from the corner of his eye, without fully looking at the youth.

It was not until Chéri had answered his mundane question that Malachi bothered to answer the first. How confident they had seemed for but a moment; many, Malachi had found, believed themselves above the effect of such questions, yet they crumbled before them all the same. All was a matter of phrase.

"We are all sinners, Chéri. It is our nature."

He mirrored the softer tone Chéri had voiced before, quiet in the comfortable space.

"There is nothing that God will not forgive. I would be wrong not to follow in His footsteps."

Chéri had an answer ready, good reasons to have switched to their currently displayed mood and an potentially a lot to say about the first sentence, but they had promised themselves to think long and hard before they answered to this man in primis, and then to the priest.

“We are all sinners,” confirmed Chéri, without the shadow of a doubt.

“And you are telling me… that you forgive me?” Same tone, neutral, soft. Same expression, no movements nor changes of any sort for good measure. Chéri was waiting for something, very clearly.

As quickly as they'd adapted to everything else, Chéri returned to a state of normalcy, neutrality. Malachi waited a moment in silence before he looked at them again, and his hands came to rest behind his back, clasped together.

"I am not telling you anything, really," he admitted with a smile. They seemed so eager to get some sort of definitive answer out of him, like everything he said had a purpose beyond simply winding them around. He was not so eager to tell them if there was.

"If that is what you want from me, then I forgive you. But I don't see anything you've done wrong, apart from being alive like the rest of us. You seem to think that of yourself, if you thought that I would reconsider my offer."

Malachi seemed to have gotten used to Chéri looking at him, so much so that they seemed to look back without so much difficulty. Or maybe he didn’t care. Chéri wondered if they had seen -or not seen- something important.

Chéri had the distinct feeling Malachi was toying with them. It was no new feeling nor an uncommon one -on the contrary- but as tired as Chéri was, mind games looked more troublesome than ever and there was no winning with this priest, they had already decided. And at those last words, Chéri shook their heads. They considered staying quiet for a while, as they had started to consider as dangerous anything that might have left their mouth, but in the end they decided to add “If I am not in the position designed for me, I am often seen as a nuisance at best and I’d rather not prove myself right now,” also, this they didn’t say, strangers could become violent if they had the feeling Chéri was damaging them. They were an easy target and the way they carried themselves was, for some reason, infuriating to many.

"The positioned designed for you?" repeated Malachi, and at first it seemed as if he was merely doing so to understand the words themselves.

A moment later, he inquired, "what position is that?"

Relaxed where he stood, he let his gaze linger on the youth. Mirrored the way Chéri had stared at him, curious and open, in spite of the reluctance he had shown before.

Chéri didn't flinch, but allowed themselves and internal sigh. they didn't believe for a second the man was not going to use that information. And the were right.

Chéri appeared completely in their element when they were observed. Their demeanour did not change. Chéri shrugged "I am the entertainment or the help, depending on the situation." Someone you don't want to think about when off the clock.