Malachi succeeded in not rolling his eyes. He was aware of the child following along behind them, but- why? Part of the reason he was going to the damned constabulary was to get the attention off of him and his sister.

He suppressed a sigh and kept walking, dutifully, alongside Roberts. The constable was a bitch to deal with, but... he admired his persistence. It was more interesting than sitting and reading verses long-memorized again.

They arrived at the police station and James marched in smugly, quite proud over not being dragged in by the ear for once. "Are we gonna arrest the Wards now?"

They arrived quicker than he'd expected and both were strangely quiet. No complains or anything else. Were they finally behaving? Hardly!

"Ah yes. If the information is good enough, we can bring in one or two of them for questioning." Wesley said as he followed them. He thought god must have been on his side, since no one was in there to give him trouble for bringing in a boy and a priest. Who would know what they'd think!

"Alright.. sit." he gestured to some chairs and gave them both a look as he grabbed some papers and a pen.

Malachi strolled in behind James, glancing about the interior of the station. It was nicer than he had expected, given the service provided by a certain constable-on-loan.

He had never actually been inside of a constabulary before. Hardly had much contact with constables either, besides the ones that visited his churches.

The priest moved to sit, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands over his knee.

"How does this work, constable?" he inquired, dark brows lifted in a curious expression. "I've never submitted a report."

James sat down next to father Brennan. It was nice to be offered a seat, rather than a cell or a threat. Perhaps he should report people more often.

He looked at the constable, waiting for instructions.

There was an empty cup at his desk with a dark stain that seemed to hint that it was often filled with tea or coffee. At the moment it was being used as a paper weight for a small stack of papers that were somewhat straightened together though not perfectly so.

He lifted the cup and took the first page before setting it back and began to write upon it.

"I ask questions, you answer, and then sign it. It's very simple. Unless you'd rather I give you a blank page and you fill it out with your own statement and sign it."

He looked from him to the boy, wondering how long they'd fake interest in the task at hand.

Filling it out himself didn't sound nearly as fun as relaying answers and watching Roberts do it. Could he actually function as a legitimate constable, or had York only loaned him to Whitby because they didn't want him there?

It was a mystery that he was determined to solve.

"Oh, no. I'll answer," confirmed Malachi. He glanced over at James to make sure he was still alright, but the boy was strangely calm.

"I'll answer too!" James said, mostly because he barely knew his letters. His legs swung back and forth while he sat. He looked up at Father Brennan and smiled.

Wesley frowned and rose a brow looking from Father Brennan to James and back. He leaned towards the boy. "What did you even see?"

He shook his head and grabbed another page and started to write on both for a moment and without looking up, spoke. "Name?"

Malachi blinked. "Mine or his?"