Chéri wasn’t trying to be contrarian. Sure, they had nothing against contradiction and normally they would have taken whatever was handed to them without thinking much of the consequences, but they felt some form of obligation towards this priest in particular, which was why they were arguing rather than just doing.

They did something unusual for themselves: they stopped and thought. Maybe it was just the uncertainty of the situation mixed with their consistent incapacity of reading under Malachi’s neutrality -an unusual thing for them indeed-, maybe it was… the hope of having the chance to come here again? They saw themselves as someone just passing by, here, but somehow it felt like time was slowing down. Their run was slowly starting to feel over, but it still dragged, probably because, Chéri knew, the chase itself wasn’t.

Malachi smiled a little bit. Chéri pushed their cheek against their palm and stared at it, letting the words soak in their mind, before answering. Think, don’t talk right away. Think before you act. Malachi was a grown man and Chéri was fairly sure he had understood what they, Chéri, were. So his decision was informed. “Alright, if you think that isn’t a problem.”

Chéri realise fairly quickly that wasn’t going to suffice. “Thank you, father.” They rearranged themselves on the chair, incapable of remaining in a single position. They put one hand above the other and inhaled deeply, without ever diverting their eyes.