It wasn’t enough that Aslan knew, because he didn’t.

Or perhaps he really had believed him, and decided that in spite of it, Malachi was still lacking.

Either way. Malachi would let Mr. Tully come to his own conclusions if he cared enough to do so; he had no intention of ever having to utter Aslan’s name again after this. None of the why’s mattered when they had no effect on the outcome.

That the priest was surprised to hear Tully’s reluctant concession was, for once, written clearly across his pale features. While he had asked, he had not actually expected for the beggar to… listen. Whatever intentions Malachi might have had when he followed him down the hall, whatever plan he might have made while he waited, it had to be thrown out when Mr. Tully threw it all off-track.

He had expected no sign of compassion from him, small as it was. It was a shock to his overtired system, and-

Malachi didn’t know what to do with it.

“I intend to correct my path, moving forward,” he promised quietly, at least in reference to his work. Tully was not wrong about him being a bad priest, no matter how much he wanted to help and serve others. He did want to correct things. He just wouldn’t mention how.

“More importantly, I don’t want for you to feel as though you have to hide when you’re here. The church should be a safe haven for anyone that needs it, and I’m sorry that I made it feel otherwise.”