Mister Tully was basically saying that, so long as the church gave him what he needed, he would not take what he needed from them. Was that it? A mutual exchange, borne of some strange sort of coercion? Malachi seemed unfazed by it, but then he wouldn't have let it show even if he wasn't.

"Mm," hummed Malachi.

No, he was not seeking any other truth. No specific truths, at least.

Malachi closed his eyes, and when his head dipped forward, the waves of his dark hair framed his face in messy fashion.

"Sometimes it is not necessary to be good," he said. "What is better: a good man that does terrible things, or a bad man that does wonderful things?"

One dark eye cracked open, to watch the motion of the beggar's hand as he stirred.

"I think that you can help me after all, Mister Tully. If you're still of the mind to do so."