RSHS 3: Help the homeless

Mal wasn't much one for weekends. He like weekdays. There was learning interrupted by friends at regular, scheduled intervals. That was the model of a good life. The whole thing fell apart at weekends. He tried to study on his own, but before he knew it he had fifteen Omnicronomicon tabs open and was torn between all fifteen. He stared at the ceiling, laid back on his bed, with a chemistry book split open and unread on his chest.
His phone rang the theme tune to some anime he saw a while ago. "Thank god." He answered.
"What?" Came Renee's voice.
"Nothing. Hi. What's up?"
"The church is doing an outreach thing today. Want to come help give food to hobos?" She chirped.
"I'll get my coat."
"It's like 20 celsius out."
"Figure of speech." He hung up.

"You know, I won't be offended if you want to go to the dance with someone else." Mal told Renee as he handed a homeless lady a bowl of chowder.
"What? What makes you say that?" She ladled more chowder into the next bowl.
"Just saying. What, you got someone in mind?" He smiled to himself as he buttered bread for hobo sandwiches.
"No." She insisted, "No." She blushed visibly.
"If you're sure. Just wanted to make sure you didn't think you had to come with me." He planted a slice down on top of a layer of expertly-positioned ham.
"Is it Ian?" He ventured as he began the next sandwich.
"No. Ew. No."
"Fair enough."
He handed a sandwich to an approaching bearded hobo.
"It's not Oliver is it?"
"What? Even more no."
"Good. Good." He took a sip from a complimentary cup of orange juice. "...Glade?"
"Mal!" She responded indignantly, "Need I remind you, we are in a house of the Lord. He can hear you gossiping."
"Can't he do that anywhere? He's meant to be omniscient."
"Don't be a jerk, kid, she's trying to make you stop talking about her obvious crush." Mal and Renee turned to the man in the crumpled top-hat at the stand. He pointed to his empty bowl, "Could I get a refill?"