Chéri had already decided to follow, they just had to decided how. They really didn’t have a choice if they wanted to eat right away and starving any further ought to be considered attentively, but as they did not mask their uncertainty, Père Brennan did something completely unexpected: he smiled. It was an very subtle change, but the meaning was vey clear to Chéri: come, you are welcome.

It was then that they decided to move, really, and follow, even protesting slightly. Chéri smiled with only one side of their mouth and said “even though I am not part of your flock?” They pointed out.

The sacristy looked how Chéri could have pictured it. They didn’t look around, feeling very much like an intruder, but instead kept their eyes on Malachi, involuntarily imitating the way he moved and, more importantly, didn’t move. Malachi offered to take their bag and Chéri blinked a few times.

The priest wasn’t going to rob them, of that they were sure, and he probably wasn’t going to be able to outran them anyway, but it felt wrong, the other man was an authority, while Chéri… Chéri hadn’t eaten in a few days and had been running away for a while. They sighed deeply then handed the bag with a swift, precise move, without admitting it in words.

In handing Malachi the bag, Chéri had handed him all their worldly possession and, inevitably, a certain amount of trust. And since they had made that first step, they allowed themselves to make a second one “Do… ships travel to France from here?” they asked, hesitantly.