Shit. Crane really was pitiful.

Malachi might have tried to temper his reaction, but his... what was it, surprise? Confusion? Whatever it was, the constable's honest explanation was too much for him to hide it all completely.

So... he hadn't ever found anyone else because he hadn't looked, and because it was wrong, and because of the scarring he kept covered up. Malachi wanted to see the extent of it -- he couldn't believe it could be enough to ward someone off completely. But if he told him not to be ashamed, that anyone that truly wanted him would not be bothered by the scars, he would have been trying to convince himself as much as Crane.

"Forgive my asking, constable, I was simply surprised. I mean no judgement."

That didn't mean he didn't feel it. But he could understand where he was coming from, he supposed. He had not exactly been allowed to consider such a celibate life (ironically) himself, and it did not often occur to him that many others had not had such a relationship with sex, even in the Catholic church. Malachi cleared his throat, and then looked down to his stew.

"There are more men that share your preferences than you know," he informed. "And you are not undesirable. You are kind, you have a job, you have a home, you know how to cook..."

What were a few scars against all of that?

"It is not wrong to want to be loved. That is as natural as breathing, Crane."