Wesley looked annoyed as the young boy went to the privy. And then the others left, only pausing to pick up the other kid that cried. He stayed in his original position and rose a brow as he kept an eye where they headed but waited for James.

"Wait! I have to poop as well!" James shouted.

The wailing toddler looked at the priest and then put his face against his shoulder for comfort. But Ruth took Sam's hand and pulled him away. "He's fine," she asserted. Sure, the priest had sort of covered for her, but she still didn't know why. Priests were right up there with teachers and rich shits in her list of people to be wary of and only slightly below coppers.

She pulled the howling child along, walking just a little slower now so that he could keep up. James could deal with the constable. He had gotten them into this mess.

Malachi held an arm loosely around the little boy's shoulders to keep him steady against his shoulder, but Sam was pulled away before he could do anything else. The priest's looked almost wounded for a moment, arms suddenly empty, but he straightened up and kept his mouth shut.

The mother charged on, but at least her pace had slowed enough for Sam to try to keep up. With a reluctant glance back to the constable and the occupied privy, Malachi went back to them. He wasn't sure where Ruth was going, but James was... well, cornered.

"So," he started casually, hands clasped behind his back, dark eyes fixed on the persistent constable.

"How long have you been a constable?"

Wesley watched the Longbottom woman hurry away. She was scared, but he'd find her soon enough. That family always attracted trouble, he'd been certain of that. His head tilted as he waited for the boy and rose a brow at the question. He was now on guard from the strange priest and he'd not give him an inch since he was certain there was something behind everything that man did, even if he didn't think it through.

"About the same amount as the constable who you tried to visit. We actually studied in York together to be constables at the same time." He grinned smugly. "Some of us were good enough to stay constables in the big city."

James turned red in the face.

What an interesting way of phrasing that. It made it sound as if this constable, who was quite clearly in Whitby, was bragging about not being good enough for the 'big city,' as he put it.

"Mm," Malachi hummed, nodding his head.

"You enjoy it? Patrolling, helping people and all?"

Wesley frowned and kept looking away waiting for the boy to leave. "Why else would I do such a job? Why are you a priest?"

He glanced slightly towards the other, thinking the man was completely a pain in his side and probably terrible at his job. What on earth wad Crane thinking to speak so well of him?

"Because I look good in black," Malachi answered without any hesitation, expression unchanged.

The constable kept looking at the door of the privy. That was a problem.

"You mentioned that there were no reports filed regarding the incidents with Benjamin Ward?" he asked then. "That bothers me. Could I file a report with you, constable?"

The response almost made him sigh as he was having more than enough of this man. He was sarcastic and acted better than others, weren't priests supposed to be humble? They were also supposed to be honest and thinking about god. He'd had his run ins to prove otherwise.

But then he spoke more and this had Wesley raise a brow and look to Malachi. His smirk returned. "Oh? What reason would you have to file against someone? Especially since you seem to have little interest in going to the constabulary?" He tilted his head, certainly he hadn't ran into the man himself, but he'd heard things.