"You've changed diocese?" Gabriel asked, with some surprise in his voice, before realizing that that was rather rude. It was not unheard of, if a priest really wanted to get away from a particular bishop, or a bishop wanted to get rid of a particular priest. But it was not the common practice either. And there was always that scent of scandal surrounding the whole thing, even if nobody knew how often that actually was the reason.

He quickly forced a smile. Even if the reason had been scandal, the priest's former sins were none of his concern. He was hardly in a position to cast the first stone. "Started out as a chaplain in Hull before coming here. I was born in Hull, so I suppose it's better to be here." It had been somewhat awkward to minister to elderly ladies who had pinched his cheek when he was a boy and still spoke about him like he was in diapers.

Malachi's smile didn't falter, even if the question was as much of a surprise to him as the matter was to Father Richards.

"Yes," was his answer. Informative as a blank page.

Fortunately the focus did not remain on him for long. Again he lifted his tea, glad for the scent of it more than the taste. Not quite to his liking, but most varieties were not.

"Ah, I see. I can imagine serving where you grew up might come with some interesting issues," he said, as if he hadn't done the same in London. But he didn't figure that Father Richards had been quite as isolated from the community as he had been, growing up -- if he'd went to school with them, and known them in his youth, he could imagine it being difficult to properly serve them.

Gabriel had questions. Questions that should probably go unanswered. And that just as likely would be. He finished his tea.

"It was rather awkward, I admit. Poverty there was even worse than here though. I must admit I had never really noticed it until I became a priest. What was London like?"

Father Richards must have been somewhat fortunate in his youth, then, having made it that long without having to face the issue of poverty directly.

Malachi gave the returned question some thought, before answering, "overcrowded."

To him, it had been like being stuffed into a barrel filled with eels, slipping and slithering about with no regard for what they crossed over.

"It was nice, of course, but there was little freedom. And the people... they're very different. The dramatics of the city are concerned with more... materialistic things, I suppose, and that was more of a challenge for me. I would rather help the people truly in need."

Gabriel's head was slowly beginning to feel worse. But there was still supper to be had and he couldn't come up with an excuse that wouldn't make him feel rude at the same time. After all, the priest was entirely new to Whitby, and it was Gabriel's job to make him feel welcome.

He nodded, but grimaced, and didn't know what to say because he hadn't been listening.

Awkward.

Whitby... no they had discussed Whitby extensively.

Crane.

Go away random thought!

"Tea's rather strong."

Shit.

...

A smile crept across Malachi's face, breaking the illusion of neutrality he'd gathered around himself.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, though he disagreed entirely.

Father Richards was... ah, what word would he use for it? He mulled it over, watching the younger priest while he did.

Cute. Father Richards was cute, in the way that baby animals were cute in their clumsy little ways. Was the concussion getting to him, or was he always so awkward?

"I appreciate speaking with you, father, but I suppose I should settle in before dinner. Would you mind showing me to my room?"

Malachi didn't care about seeing it, could probably find it himself just fine, but he'd give Father Richards an excuse to go rest himself nonetheless.

The smile might have dispelled some of the awkwardness, had Gabriel seen it, but he had turned his eyes down to the cup that was now devoid of the contents he had so unkindly criticized.

The offer, no, request, but it felt like an offer and he suspected it was - the offer was a welcome one. He glanced up at father Brennan and gave him a small grateful smile. "Of course," he said and he set his cup down on the table and rose. "Can I take your bag for you, father?"

“Ah- best not.” The smile returned was sheepish. Malachi did not want a repeat of what happened earlier in the day, especially when Father Richards was already injured enough.

Following the other’s cue, Malachi rose from his chair. His emptied teacup was set next to Father Richards’, and he grabbed his bag before offering a nod.

“Lead the way then, father.”

"Alright," said Gabriel, wondering whether the offer had somehow embarrassed the other priest. He didn't dwell on it, however, since he was in a hurry to lie down for a bit. "This way."

He led the other priest up to one of the larger bedchambers. Its contents were modest however. There was only simple and essential furniture. A crucifix and a little statue of the virgin Mary formed the only decorations. "There you go, father. If there is anything you need, please let Mrs. Higgins or myself know. I will be taking some rest before supper."