He could not fault her lack of appetite. Death, and the sorrows of the living that came with it, hardly made one reach for bread over a bottle.

His smile was kind when she looked at him, but Malachi did not linger in the door. It was late enough now that the moon lit their path, casting its pale glowing light upon them. He walked close by her side, should she desire his assistance, but otherwise let her be.

"The beds are not the most comfortable," he warned, "but the house is warm, and if you have any issues, please tell me."

Malachi walked ahead to get the door to the presbytery next. As mentioned, it was warm inside, and a dull light from the hearth spoke to a fire that'd only recently burned out.

"There is... another guest staying with us, but he should not bother you."