My, he was ever so bold. The rashness with which Tully spoke almost even managed to break through to him.

Malachi maintained his composure however, bringing both cold hands to join behind his back once more. He let the beggar speak without interruption, regardless of the weight of his accusations.

“No,” he denied, shaking his head. “You’re right about some of it, but not that. I do not find you disgusting, nor do I wish to deny you the help that you deserve.”

He wouldn’t have taken him in at all if that were the case. Did he dislike him? Yes. Absolutely. Tully had played far too big a part in the deterioration of the situation for him to feel otherwise.

“When we met, you said that I could never understand because I’d never been in love. You’re wrong,” Malachi watched him a moment longer, and then glanced away, pacing slowly as he spoke.

Somewhere lost in memory, he could almost hear the sounds of a piano echoed through vast, decadent rooms, carrying even through the floor, to him. Could almost recall a man’s face before it rotted in the dirt, but not quite.

“I’ve been in love. I lost him, too. And even now, I felt love for someone else,” he felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but kept his smile even so. “I did not want faceless pretty men, Mr. Tully, I wanted him. Yes, that makes me a terrible priest – but I want to help people. I do.”