That went over better than he'd thought it would. He had expected her to protest, or that she would at least take some convincing, but she took the offer easily. A testament to her exhaustion, Malachi supposed, or perhaps she already trusted him.

"You are not a burden," his voice was firmer this time, but not unkind. Malachi simply struggled to hear her say such things about herself, and did not wish for her to reinforce that idea in her head.

The heightened pitch of her apologies set him into motion again. He approached her the same as he had in the graveyard outside, without any intention of spooking her, and gently brought her into his embrace.

"Please don't apologize," said Malachi. "This is not your fault. It's alright to not know what you're supposed to do."

His hold was steady, but not overpowering -- if she had any desire to escape it, she could. Up close, the scent of lavender seemed to cling to the priest's hair and robes, as if it were a part of him as natural as his breath.