You never did tell me what you two were talking about. [Because he knows you hung back to talk to Carolina, Mal. He can feel it in his bones. It's that weird prickly feeling a guy gets when his current not quite something is spending time with his x not quite something.
Don't ask he doesn't know. He just knows you two were TALKING.]
[Watch him oh so innocently raise his eyebrows. Whatever are you talking about, York? Why I never.] Am I not allowed to have any private conversations? Just how hotly were your ears burning, hm?
[A bit high-end, but between the two of them, they've surely got the money for lunch. He hopes feelings aren't terribly awkward between them given the big thing that is York looming over them. A little early, hates being late for anything; he'll wait if she isn't there.]
[ Delta's upstairs, tired out after a long day of dealing with the cold. He's just dropped off and York's flicking through the feed while getting himself a mug of coffee, passing Malcolm on the way with a friendly shoulder bump.
The mind meld shenanigans have made him more comfortable with being friendly to Mal again. It's easier when he knows D can peek in and correct him whenever. ]
[Oh. Well, that's one positive result for Malcolm out of this whole scenario. He's understood though hasn't been entirely content with the more or less cessation of friendly touch from York. The move even surprises him, and he blinks up at York, both for the bump and the little rhyme.]
Puttering about, mostly. Is Delta comfortable? I see you're not worked up in a state over him.
[ Kicking ass, taking names, popping locks, liberating restrained gods, playing decoy. All in a day's work. But once the adrenaline rush has ended he finds himself more than a little exhausted. He strips down on his way inside, setting sections of the armor off on a chair next to the door. He manages to get halfway out before he decides 'fuck it' and heads to the kitchen for a beer. ]
[There's noise from downstairs, and Malcolm has to go investigate. There's a short sigh of relief at seeing it's York, alive and what appears to be well.]
[ Delta's off being independant, Clair's out of the medical center and life is back about where it should be. But with North visiting Wrath all the time and trying not to piss off his doctor York's home alone a little more than usual. So much so that he's on his feet and offering Malcolm his arms for a hug as soon as he walks in. ]
Hey boo!
[ the whole worrying about Mal being not quite himself? Forgotten. Those drugs make people paranoid. He was irrational. This is fine. This is good, right? It's just Malcolm. ]
He'd calmed down. Sobered up. Spoken to his therapist how he'd pretty much fucked up the bulk of his interpersonal relationships in a sweep of shitty choices, mentioned the discussion with Malcolm and got a swat on the ass for going to her before talking to him and actually kicked out to go deal with it like an adult instead of waiting for the axe to fall like he would normally. He'd dicked around the district for awhile trying to avoid the inevitable but...that'd be shitty. So here he is, sitting in the livingroom, waiting for Malcolm.
He comes in later than usual. He's been trying to clear his head, had to stay away, wanted to keep this conversation off until he was in a better mood for it, and he can't say he is in a better mood. But what else is he supposed to do, stay away for the rest of the day?
Malcolm looks tired when he comes through the door, shrugging off his coat. Barely gives York a second look.
After his text conversation with Wrath he feels a little better. The day before he had been an utter emotional mess and hadn't been able to deal with communicating with her, which made him feel really bad. She was always so understanding and cheerful and as much as he liked her, that day he'd been a lot more inclined to sulk in his room and stare at the ceiling and be generally avoidant. It's why he called in to work; he hadn't made Hob very happy but that was what he needed to do.
But now, things are a little better. Things are always better when he gets to see her. It makes him want to eat for the first time since everything happened, and man, once he gets started cooking his breakfast he realizes that he's starving. A dish of baked oatmeal will be filling and though he normally makes enough for the whole household, he takes an individual baking dish and makes a single portion. Until it's ready he can putter around in the kitchen and make himself some coffee and relax.
Malcolm's mood, on the other hand, has not seen fit to be light since York's call, since their talk either. Everything's just jumbled, and his emotions are, he recognizes, not in the most fit state. Maybe he should be worried, but he's not. Instead it's just something like resignation, like relaxation and frustration rolled into one, and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
But he's willing to let things settle. Until he sees North. North puttering around the kitchen, where he would like to be for some coffee and a bite, and it was easy enough ignoring him and avoiding him before. But now?
"Morning," he greets, though it's hardly a friendly sound.
[The picture is a cartoony little sketch of a futuristic city street that has anthropomorphic underpants of all varieties walking up and down the street, waving to each other, etc. There is a visible sky with birds and a cartoon spaceship.
In the girliest handwriting imaginable, the caption says, "It's a beautiful, sunshiny day on the Planet of the Underpants Men."]
1. I'm fine. I haven't run into anyone I know, yet, and Carolina warned me about another you running around. Hopefully I'll be able to tell the difference.
2. The first time was a while ago. I don't know how many people are here that were even present for it.
[ It's not long after his call to Delta that North decides he ought to get his other piece of unfinished business taken care of. Thankfully it turns out taking care of it without interruptions will be easy enough—after dinner somehow he and Malcolm end up alone in the same room together and he decides to take his chance. ]
[The past few days have certainly been something, today especially. That North has chosen this evening to talk to him is--curious. The paranoid worrywart part wonders if he isn't going to like what this talk is about, but he gives North an interested look.]
So, I still have the cash from the auction burning a hole in my pocket. Seems like a good time to go use it, if you're up for it. I need to shake the furniture dust out of my hair.
[ It's been a little over a week since the spider infestations, since clobbering York and shutting down and shutting out her friends. She's embarrassed by her behavior, much as it had felt justified at the time - but acting out of fear though she had been, she'd hurt her friends in the process, and that was unacceptable.
It still took a week for her to pull herself together, to be ready to face at least one of them because of it.
Either way, Carolina minces lightly outside the front door, knocking twice before settling both hands into her coat pockets, trying to keep her nerves under control. It's early - not too early, she's not about to wake people out of a dead sleep! - and she almost regrets not bringing something with her. Apology donuts? ..Apologies always went over better with food, once upon a time, or so she'd found. ]
[Malcolm isn't expecting any company. The spiders seem to have cleared out or been otherwise exterminated, thank god, and the city's gone back to its quiet move onward to the next mild disaster. So it goes.
There's a coffee nestled in one hand when he opens the door. Pauses at Carolina's appearance. They hadn't talked since York broke into her place and she had rather coldly directed them out. It hurt, at the time. And he might be still nursing a small grudge over it, despite York's attempts to sway him.]
I'll be stopping by back at your house again for when he gets home from work. He says we won't need a third. Thank you for offering, though. I appreciate it.
York...stuffs a lot of shit he was worried about, afraid of, and needs to not feel in the back of his head, fixes Malcolm a cup of tea, and wanders back up to find his boo. Shit's simpler around Malcolm, mostly due to trusting he'll tell him when he's out of line. Not always kindly- but he doesn't always need kind. He needs honest.
Malcolm's always been honest with him. Even when he didn't deserve it. ]
Honey, I'm home. [ He drawls, knocking on the doorframe. ]
[And today is a lot about honesty. There hasn't been any yelling from downstairs or crashing or destruction, so it can't have gone too badly. He hears York ascending the stairs. Smiles as he sets his padd in his lap up at his boyfriend. (While he's on the floor, leaning against the bed, and Duke across his legs.)]
We think we got it. [a small sigh of relief] Delta isolated the trigger, or what is most likely to be related to it. He has some theories, but for now, we think I'm 'safe'.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Action morning day 98
Don't ask he doesn't know. He just knows you two were TALKING.]
Seriously, Malcolm. Not cool.
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call; day 108 evening
So I'm wondering if a conversation was had or are the two of you just throwing yourselves at whomever might catch?
Because if the latter is so I need fair warning.
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[Backdated!] Day 109 (Midday); Text;
[text -> action]
[A bit high-end, but between the two of them, they've surely got the money for lunch. He hopes feelings aren't terribly awkward between them given the big thing that is York looming over them. A little early, hates being late for anything; he'll wait if she isn't there.]
[Action]
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day 124 Evening action
The mind meld shenanigans have made him more comfortable with being friendly to Mal again. It's easier when he knows D can peek in and correct him whenever. ]
What's up, Butternut?
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Puttering about, mostly. Is Delta comfortable? I see you're not worked up in a state over him.
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Day 138 Evening - Action
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Looks like you could sleep for days.
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text,
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That's very kind and very vague of you. To what do I owe the pleasure of a check-in?
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Voice, day 145, midmorning, 4.5 minutes after the chat with Victor
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Do I get to know who Victor is and why I should care and why I should jump at her say-so?
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Day 153 | Evening | Action
Hey boo!
[ the whole worrying about Mal being not quite himself? Forgotten. Those drugs make people paranoid. He was irrational. This is fine. This is good, right? It's just Malcolm. ]
Day 153 | Evening | Action
Day 153 | Evening | Action
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Text; Day 156 - Morning
This is Carolina. What's your status?
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Day 157 Evening
Day 157 Evening
Malcolm looks tired when he comes through the door, shrugging off his coat. Barely gives York a second look.
Day 157 Evening
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Day 158 | Morning | Action
But now, things are a little better. Things are always better when he gets to see her. It makes him want to eat for the first time since everything happened, and man, once he gets started cooking his breakfast he realizes that he's starving. A dish of baked oatmeal will be filling and though he normally makes enough for the whole household, he takes an individual baking dish and makes a single portion. Until it's ready he can putter around in the kitchen and make himself some coffee and relax.
Day 158 | Morning | Action
But he's willing to let things settle. Until he sees North. North puttering around the kitchen, where he would like to be for some coffee and a bite, and it was easy enough ignoring him and avoiding him before. But now?
"Morning," he greets, though it's hardly a friendly sound.
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text | 158 morning | Mal you poor honey I feel like you need something not drama
:)
[The picture is a cartoony little sketch of a futuristic city street that has anthropomorphic underpants of all varieties walking up and down the street, waving to each other, etc. There is a visible sky with birds and a cartoon spaceship.
In the girliest handwriting imaginable, the caption says, "It's a beautiful, sunshiny day on the Planet of the Underpants Men."]
he really does
wrath is here to be your ray of murdersunshine bb
it's better than the piles of fail
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Day 166: Morning - Text;
[she thought you ought to know.]
Day 166: Morning - Text;
Day 166: Morning - Text;
166 Text
2 - why does no one I know, aside from you, have any sense of pattern recognition? At all?
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2. The first time was a while ago. I don't know how many people are here that were even present for it.
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Day 171 | Evening | Action
Hey, Malcolm. I was hoping we could talk.
Day 171 | Evening | Action
Oh yes? All right then, I've got the time.
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Day 198 ( March 1 ) - Night | Voice
So, I still have the cash from the auction burning a hole in my pocket. Seems like a good time to go use it, if you're up for it. I need to shake the furniture dust out of my hair.
Call me back.
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Where to, stranger?
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Day 221 - Afternoon; Voicemail
I'm coming over to yours. I'll see you shortly.
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Day 236; Night - Text
Homeward bound, should be back soon. How are you doing?
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Day 280 - Text;
[ the attached address is for her apartment. ]
Day 288 - Action
It still took a week for her to pull herself together, to be ready to face at least one of them because of it.
Either way, Carolina minces lightly outside the front door, knocking twice before settling both hands into her coat pockets, trying to keep her nerves under control. It's early - not too early, she's not about to wake people out of a dead sleep! - and she almost regrets not bringing something with her. Apology donuts? ..Apologies always went over better with food, once upon a time, or so she'd found. ]
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There's a coffee nestled in one hand when he opens the door. Pauses at Carolina's appearance. They hadn't talked since York broke into her place and she had rather coldly directed them out. It hurt, at the time. And he might be still nursing a small grudge over it, despite York's attempts to sway him.]
Good morning. [Siiiiiip and an eyebrow raise.]
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288 - text; afternoon
288 - Afternoon; action
York...stuffs a lot of shit he was worried about, afraid of, and needs to not feel in the back of his head, fixes Malcolm a cup of tea, and wanders back up to find his boo. Shit's simpler around Malcolm, mostly due to trusting he'll tell him when he's out of line. Not always kindly- but he doesn't always need kind. He needs honest.
Malcolm's always been honest with him. Even when he didn't deserve it. ]
Honey, I'm home. [ He drawls, knocking on the doorframe. ]
288 - Afternoon; action
So I heard. How did it go?
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Voicemail;
We think we got it. [a small sigh of relief] Delta isolated the trigger, or what is most likely to be related to it. He has some theories, but for now, we think I'm 'safe'.
Just wanted to let you know.
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voice;
voice;
Voice;