Surprisingly enough for a town dependent on the sea, this was not the first time in his short stay that Malachi had heard such a sentiment. He assumed it would also not be the last.

Oh, God. Was his confessional, too, going to be filled with ship-related complaints?

There were enough congregants that used it as a place to vent already.

He took note of the way Edmund’s eyes tracked the movement of his hands. They rested in a loose, comfortable hold at his back, and now and then the moonlight glittered on the gold. It was a good thing he’d worn them out tonight – he didn’t exactly carry money on him. Certainly not enough to pay for a room and whatever else the adolescents might require.

“Ah. I’m awful with directions too,” Malachi admitted, suppressing the cringe that crept up on him as he recalled his first day in town. It hadn’t been entirely his fault that he went to the wrong church – who named two churches after the same saint in the same town? – but being directionally challenged had not helped.

Another low hum. Malachi did not miss the implications of ’no one left to stop us.’

“I see,” he continued walking south from the bridge, along the river. He knew he’d seen some sort of hotel on another of his walks, though that’d been during the daytime – what had it been called? Angel? He just hoped that it was nice enough.

“Do you think you’ll be staying long, then? It’s a charming place… from what I’ve seen of it. If you can ignore all the ships,” he said. “I would be happy to help you establish yourselves here. If you wanted.”

Whether their travelling was out of necessity, or simply out of desire to see more of the world, he didn’t know. But the boy had already confirmed that there wasn’t anyone else around to help them.