Once the food was handed over, Malachi stepped aside to allow Chéri to sit and eat it wherever they wished. The dining room was still an option, should the chair prove unsuitable, but a part of him was glad to stay near the fire.

It gave him something else to direct his attention to, for one, when Chéri's stare found him again. He could not say exactly why it bothered him, beyond the fact that it felt like they meant to dissect him, to figure him out. They hardly felt malicious in nature, yet Malachi was unsettled all the same.

"Of course," he said again. There is no need for "thank you."

Malachi held his hands behind his back while he watched the fire, and listened to the occasional clink of the spoon and bowl.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked finally, voice free of judgement. "Now that you're here, that is. What do you want to do?"