The basket wasn't heavy. Malachi glanced down when it was handed off to him, but didn't pry. The contents were for Father Richards.

(So if he wanted to take a look, he'd do so after the door was shut.)

Was Constable Crane always so nervous? Or maybe that wasn't it, maybe his flustered state was...

"...probably best he doesn't even know I was here."

Ahhhhh.

Malachi smiled. Like a cat, if that cat had just captured a mouse in its teeth. An expression that, without having known him longer than a few minutes, probably just looked friendly.

"Of course, Constable Crane," he nodded. "I'm sure you're a very busy man, I would not want to keep you from your duties."

It was an excuse that the Constable hadn't asked for, but one that the priest supplied nonetheless, if only to keep him from feeling like he had to explain.

"I'll tell him it's from someone in the church, as you said. Is there anything else that I can do for you, Constable?"

Elijah became relaxed and smiled . "No, that is all. You're right. I have a lot to do, I was just. ...ah passing by. Thank you for delivering it." He nodded towards the man and stepped back to leave just as a voice piped up.

"Ohhhhh Fatheeeerr Brennnannn..who's at the dooor?" It was light and sing-song and with conplete familiarity to the priest. Francis poked his head out beside him with a huge smile. "Ohhh constable , good to see you." He turned his head and spoke in a dramatic whisper, "I have peeled your carrots for you..." and just as quickly the other man slipped out of sight.

The constable looked rather surprised by the moment but recovered quickly. "Ahh, good to see you've found some work, mister Tully. Please keep at it. " He then focused on the man still standing before him. "Thank you for helping him out. I do need to go. " he waved and turned hurrying off.

Even when that voice rang out -- no, because that voice rang out -- the priest's dark eyes were fixed on the constable, nearly sparkling for all their delight.

Oh, it was easy to pass it off as his appreciation for the constable's concern, and for the gift he'd been granted to take to Father Richards, but the truth? The truth was that he just loved to figure things out, and the constable seemed to be the missing piece he'd needed for one particular priestly puzzle.

So much so, that when a head popped over his shoulder, Malachi tilted his head to mirror it. Briefly he seemed intent to conspire with the beggar's antics, like he wanted to speak up and tease the constable himself--

--but such things were not proper.

Malachi hummed, waving off Mister Tully. His smile relaxed, and indeed all of his demeanor seemed to soften around the edges in a return to something calm, serene. Nodding again to the retreating constable, he called, "Peace be with you, Constable."

He pulled the door shut after that, and not a hint remained of whatever amusement had enlivened him before.

"Mister Tully," started Malachi, returning to the kitchen with the basket and knives. "If you've made a mess of our kitchen, I'm afraid I don't know what Mrs. Higgins will do."

The smaller man cocked his head to the side as he peered at him, noticing the shift. He smiled and shrugged before turning to hold out his hand in a gesture to the kitchen. Retaining his good mood he spoke somewhat kittenish, "I said I would behave. I peeled your carrots. And I was going to make sure you would be done at the door before beginning the water."

He pointed to the couple of carrots freshly skinned next to the pot full of water, ready to be heated. "I have been very good and nice wanted to wait. " He lowered his eyes to the basket. "Oh. What did the dear constable deliver?"

Behave? That hadn't seemed like behaving to him. Malachi seemed far from bothered about it, though, and didn't try to argue otherwise. The kitchen still appeared to be in order, the carrots were definitely peeled, and Mrs. Higgins would have nothing to use against him.

He set the basket down on the counter, hands already moving to open it.

"Something for Father Richards," he explained. "Shall we take a look?"

Francis was about to start the fire but he pivoted on his toes with the speed of a dancer to look in the basket. "Oh yes!"

He was giddy with excitement to see what the constable could possibly be bringing to them. When the small cloth was moved, the man perked up like an excited bird.

"Oh! Dessert!" He immediately reached in to snatch one of the golden sweet buns with the tell tale cross pressed into their tops. "Still warm!" He gasped in surprise. "Wonder if he bought these or made them himself."

The man was about to pop it into his mouth, completely ignoring the small card placed among the food. If the priest read it, it was written in crisp neat letters:

Father Richards,
I hope these find you well and help you recover. Get well soon and return to helping those who look up to you and rely on your strength.

Malachi's hand shot out as soon as he noticed the taking, grabbing the other man's wrist. It was almost peculiar, how strong his long fingers were in their grip, but the pressure relented as soon as it appeared.

"Behave," he warned. "Only one."

And he let go.

The buns were clearly for Father Richards, as was the note that came with them, but it wasn't like the other priest had known about them yet. If he had been alone, Malachi would not have taken one from the basket, but he would not deny a hungry man the food. If he had ever planned on not letting him have at least one, he wouldn't have opened it around him... and if they weren't already in the midst of making him an actual meal, he might have even let him take more, as was likely evident by the priest's generosity thus far.

Malachi closed the basket and set it aside. He reached for the knives, inspecting them both before settling on one.

"Well? Is it any good? I'll have to take the rest to Father Richards soon."

Francis was startled by the sudden grabbing of his arm. He had not expected the priest to be so quick or strong. He stared from the hand to his face, realizing maybe he couldn't take him in a fight. Finally, he rose a brow and gave him a knowing look.

"Don't impress me so much, or I might start having dreams about you."

He pulled back his wrist as soon as it was free. He ripped off a piece of the bun to eat and then another. The man gave a pleased little moan. "It's been a while since I've had something so delectable. " He held out his hand with roughly half of the hot cross bun remaining. "Seems like a crime not to share."

His blue eyes peered imploringly at the older man to take it. "It's very good."

Of all the ways he should have reacted, Malachi laughed. Unintentionally, for he'd never relax enough to do so in typical company; the sound was short-lived, too. Clipped into nonexistence as soon as it reached his own ears. To Mister Tully's bold statement, he said nothing.

While Mister Tully fawned over the treat he'd acquired, Malachi began his task of cutting up the carrots. He paused long enough to glance over his shoulder, eyeing the torn half of the bun, but shook his head.

"Have it. I don't like sweets."

He also didn't want to take it for a multitude of other reasons: he didn't like sharing, he didn't like sweets, and he didn't like taking perfectly good food from someone who needed it more than him.

It was so quick, he'd almost be uncertain he hadn't heard it. The man had a charge about him as he experienced even in a moment, something he hadn't in a while. Maybe he wouldn't rob this priest after all. He hadn't been able to relax and have fun like this in quite a spell. Even if Father Brennan didn't react much to him normally, there was a hint as small as a grain of sand, that he at least found him slightly amusing.

"Oh it is such a shame..." he said but did not insist and immediately popped it into his mouth. "Sweets are such a rare treasure, I do not understand how you could not like them. Maybe you've been able to enjoy them at your leisure at one time. I'd believe you were once a spoiled rich boy, you have soft hands."

He chuckled and stepped away to crouch down and begin getting the stove heating up before placing the heavy pot upon it. He leaned against the table and eyed the room before finding the seasoning. This was where he had to be absolutely careful to take the bare minimum as any more would definitely be noticed and get the ire of Ms. Higgins.