Out of all the more important things that Malachi should have been focused on, the arm around the young woman’s shoulders stole almost all of his attention. He only caught it in the corner of his eye, and didn’t dare chance a better look, lest he find himself subjected to another unknowing look.

Too knowing, was what it was. In front of Tully, he had at least acknowledged that they’d met. Part of him was aware of the many reasons why it would be a terrible idea to let any others know of their connection… but the other part of him still hurt and didn’t care why.

Malachi did glance over when the detective addressed him directly, but his laughter and accompanying judgement did little to help his situation. He chanced a smile, small and polite. The one he forced for his parishioners.

“Thank you for your concern,” was all he said to that.

Turning his attention as best as he could back to Nettie, he shook his head.

“Please, Nettie,” could a man not choke and die of humiliation in front of the object of his desires in peace?

“I’m alright. We can talk about it after. Do you have anywhere to be?”

He didn’t want to talk about it, but he hardly wished to worry her to death. He could just… spin some tale about getting mugged and tossed around a bit. It wouldn’t be a lie.

Malachi kept quiet as the other woman approached, stepping aside to allow her the space to speak with Helen and Nettie without his… looming. Was everyone in Whitby so small, or did discomfort just make him feel taller?

The brunette said ‘brother’ and his eyes darted to her, and her brother, and back again. Brother. Thank God for that. Not that he supposed it really mattered – if the detective had any desire to keep an older priest around, he wouldn’t have made himself so fucking hard to find. Malachi kept that in mind when he considered speaking up again, and kept his mouth shut instead.