[Its a tiny, tiny tell, the way his chin just barely lifts, reluctance brief and dismissed as quickly as he feels it come up. He even keeps himself from asking if Malcolm is alone.]
Yeah, I’ll be right over. Anything I should bring to celebrate?
Malcolm, there is no definitive way to celebrate something. If you want a quiet cup of tea to do it, that’s as valid as throwing a rager. I’ll be over in ten?
Will is not over currently; Malcolm is there alone. But there are signs that Will is there a lot more and on a more permanent sort of basis. There are dog dishes by the kitchen island. There's a blanket with dog hair on it on the livingroom floor as a sort of makeshift dog bed. There's a plaid flannel shirt slung over the foot of the bed. There's a rustic army green jacket hanging on one of the hooks by the door.
Malcolm is behind the kitchen island arranging sliced fruit and cheese on a plate. He looks up at Neal's knock.
Neal balks internally at the signs of foreign habitation, as though he has any right at all to the space. It still makes him feel strange, makes it very clear that he won’t be spending his next inevitable death toll reclined on Malcolm’s couch in the company of Goya’s masterworks. He and Malcolm aren’t paired any more. That’s that.
Neal smiles when he sees Malcolm, disorientation at the realized change warring with intense curiosity. He holds up the jar of tea, giving it a little shake. There’s a ribbon tied around the neck. “Happy Wolfday?”
It would be a hard sell at the moment--he doesn't care to have anyone he doesn't trust that close when he's vulnerable.
Again, he can't help the way he looks down and smiles. "Now that I have a kitchen, maybe I can try a few of the recipes I was toying around with, see if I can't provide you with something that's both palatable and stays down."
He pushes the jar of tea across the island at Malcolm, studying the other man's face, the way he moves, trying to spot if there's anything different.
"It's just... done? You didn't have to wait for a full moon or something?"
"Oh. No. The full moon doesn't turn this kind of wolf. We can do it at will, though it takes energy. You can't just keep... flipping back and forth. I keep some of the, um... heightened senses, though, when I'm... human me."
He puts the kettle on.
"How's Wardening going? Did you get someone in the last pairing?"
"Why can't you change back and forth? What kind of heightened senses?" It's genuine curiosity, fascination, though when Malcolm says we can do it at will there's a little scissor-pang of loneliness and jealousy that he looks toward the Goyas to hide in case it makes it to his face.
"Kendall Roy, on a temporary basis. Roman's older brother. He's... interesting. There's a lot going on there."
“Oh, yeah, I noticed that,” he says of Kendall, scooping tea into a diffuser. His hands pause in their work and he looks up at Neal. “I noticed it verbally, so probably better not to mention me.”
As for the senses, he goes back to scooping. “I can smell a… broader range of scents? Like. I can pick out the scents of the various components of this tea, for example. And my hearing is better, though that may be a double-edged sword. I’m not sure I needed a way to be more sure of overhearing people talking about me behind my back.”
"The better to hear your friends telling them to go fuck themselves if they try." Implacable on that front, thank you very much. He leans a little further forward on the counter. "The scent sensitivity must do fascinating things to flavor profiles."
As far as Kendall is concerned, well... "He's tightly wound in a completely different way than Roman. Has a pretty strong chosen one personal narrative that would make him an absolute dream to run a con on, so it's good for us both that I'm not here for that, I guess."
“Oh. No. He cut his hand with a knife and then mine and then tied them together so the blood transfer wouldn’t be interrupted if I… convulsed a little,” Malcolm explains, looking up as he drops the diffuser in the teapot.
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You— Kikimora graduated?
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Neal is briefly at a loss from surprise, but fumbles himself together quickly.]
That’s—wow. How did— Are you okay? How does it feel? Are you happy? You look—exercised?
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I… yeah. I’m… talking to you right now.
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Yeah, I’ll be right over. Anything I should bring to celebrate?
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...That's a boring notion of celebrating, right? Herbal tea? It's going to be a real party in here.
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Malcolm, there is no definitive way to celebrate something. If you want a quiet cup of tea to do it, that’s as valid as throwing a rager. I’ll be over in ten?
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-----> [prose action]
Will is not over currently; Malcolm is there alone. But there are signs that Will is there a lot more and on a more permanent sort of basis. There are dog dishes by the kitchen island. There's a blanket with dog hair on it on the livingroom floor as a sort of makeshift dog bed. There's a plaid flannel shirt slung over the foot of the bed. There's a rustic army green jacket hanging on one of the hooks by the door.
Malcolm is behind the kitchen island arranging sliced fruit and cheese on a plate. He looks up at Neal's knock.
"Come in!"
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Neal smiles when he sees Malcolm, disorientation at the realized change warring with intense curiosity. He holds up the jar of tea, giving it a little shake. There’s a ribbon tied around the neck. “Happy Wolfday?”
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He would almost certainly still be expected to spend a death toll on his couch, where he could be looked after.
"Hi! I didn't have much in the fridge but um... apples and cheese go together...."
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Again, he can't help the way he looks down and smiles. "Now that I have a kitchen, maybe I can try a few of the recipes I was toying around with, see if I can't provide you with something that's both palatable and stays down."
He pushes the jar of tea across the island at Malcolm, studying the other man's face, the way he moves, trying to spot if there's anything different.
"It's just... done? You didn't have to wait for a full moon or something?"
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He puts the kettle on.
"How's Wardening going? Did you get someone in the last pairing?"
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"Kendall Roy, on a temporary basis. Roman's older brother. He's... interesting. There's a lot going on there."
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As for the senses, he goes back to scooping. “I can smell a… broader range of scents? Like. I can pick out the scents of the various components of this tea, for example. And my hearing is better, though that may be a double-edged sword. I’m not sure I needed a way to be more sure of overhearing people talking about me behind my back.”
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As far as Kendall is concerned, well... "He's tightly wound in a completely different way than Roman. Has a pretty strong chosen one personal narrative that would make him an absolute dream to run a con on, so it's good for us both that I'm not here for that, I guess."
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"What if you could con him into graduating?" he jokes with a grin.
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Which is an issue for another time, one he has to talk about with Raylan, really.
Neal shakes his head. "How did it work anyway? Did Lark bite you? Is he the only one who can do it?"
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