Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even after a full day of distracting himself with one thing or another, he still found himself flinching at any noises that were remotely sudden. Someone dropping a plate at a local diner that he spent most Saturdays having his breakfast at? Flinching with a heart that refused to settle. Some kid throwing firecrackers down an alley? It took him almost a full minute to stop staring where they landed. Construction sites? He wasn't willing to risk it.

If someone his size went unresponsive, anyone who tried to touch him was almost guaranteed to leave with a bruise, or maybe even a missing tooth. He already towered above anyone he had ever met, even his younger brother who had never needed a stepladder in his 30 years of life. Whilst Nolan could always reach the highest shelves, Mal could see the dust gathering even higher than that. Being 7-foot-tall with the physique of a boxer sounded good on paper, but those extra 9 or so inches above his brother just meant he had to always be that much more careful.

But he couldn't make it too obvious. Granted, keeping a stoic face was fairly easy for him given his... attire. A facemask shrouding his lower features and an eye patch covering his left eye left very little to go off of to try and read him. Most people he met didn't want to stare into his only golden iris for long enough to try to either way, as he had what Uzi referred to as 'the resting bitch face of a diagnosed psychopath'.

His siblings weren't deterred by that, so he had to try and remain indifferent, just to keep up appearances. Jade wouldn't be present, so at least the more standoffish of his family wouldn't challenge him on anything, though she never did come to their nights at the bar- nor did Cynthia or Tessa. That left Uzi and Veronica to worry about, as whilst the latter, and much taller, woman typically waited until after an event to begin an interrogation, the former did not have that same level of tact.

Nolan and Thad were blissfully oblivious, though his brother was only like that with anyone other than his very gothic wife. Lizzy had enough social awareness to follow the same route as Veronica, but their position as spouses meant he'd have to have a joint conversation with the both of them. Doll, ever the reliable one, either wouldn't care, or would leave it up to another in the group to address the issue.

He had to push the worries of the night away for a while longer, as he was briefly reminded that it was after dark in Manhattan, so the narrow alleys appeared that much darker. And his current state of being ready to fight at the next physical contact meant that he couldn't risk being caught off-guard, else he may be charged with battery. He came back to reality at the right time, as a pale, slender digit poked him in the middle of his shoulder blades.

"You usually would have noticed someone behind you sooner than that, Mal." A deep voice; feminine, but bordering on masculine, with an undeniably thick Russian accent. As he turned to face Doll, he quickly took in her own choice of clothing- a simply cut, deep red dress accentuated with a dark leather corset wrapped firmly around her waist.

"Guess I got lost in thought." He reached into one of the inner pockets of his trench coat, and pulled out a box of cigars. "One before we head in?"

"Yes, thank you." She took the one offered to her, and had it lit within a few seconds once Mal withdrew the lighter from the same pocket he stashed the box. Were they in private, he would've joined her, but tried to keep his facemask up as much as possible when in public. It was something Doll was aware of, of course, so she didn't question it, and instead joined him in his trek to the meeting place for tonight's drinking session in a comfortable silence that was commonplace in their interactions.

Once they arrive and the cigar has been disposed of, the both of them see a familiar vehicle pulling in beside the building, and familiar heads of platinum and purple hair pulling themselves out. Nolan's eyes are practically glowing when he notices the two, and jogs to meet them at the door of the establishment.

"Hey guys! How you doing?" The two brothers join their hands before pulling one another into a one-handed hug that doesn't last longer than a second. 

"Fine, just the usual routine for any other Saturday." He curses himself internally for giving a wordier answer than he typically would, but hopes that they don't notice his lie nonetheless. Doll, ever the quiet and stoic one, simply nods to the tall Gaelic man.

"We should head in, the other 3 said they're already here." Uzi strolls to meet them, her hands remaining in the pockets of her band hoodie while an almost imperceptible grin tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Got it boss." He ruffles the comparatively miniscule woman's hair, and is promptly given a half-hearted jab to the ribs in response- the normalcy of it helps calm his nerves, at least.

As she had said, the last 3 of their usual group were already seated at a booth in the back. Veronica was the first to notice, raising a glass that was likely full a few minutes prior. As they all got seated and elected Nolan to collect the next round, Thad adjusted the cap atop his head and straightened out his football jacket while asking the usual questions one does whilst giving a buzzed greeting.

"Hey, Z, Doll! How ya been? Feels like forever since we last had some drinks." As he broke into the small talk, Lizzy rolled her eyes with a flick of her hand to clear her vision from a stay lock of deep blonde hair.

"We saw them last Saturday, genius." There was no malice behind the remark, but it still made the sports coach chuckle nervously at his twin sister's pragmatism.

The scene flowed into casual conversation from there, with each member of the group exchanging the highlights of their week and sharing in the typical playful banter for a gaggle of young-ish adults. By the time Nolan returned with alcohol for all except Uzi and himself, Mal had already missed a decent half of the conversation. Everything around him felt too bright, too enclosed.

He had planned exit routes, of course, who wouldn't? There was no telling what could happen at any point, no way to know if he'd have to react quickly to some new danger. Though, in hindsight, it wasn't his best idea to plan for a life-threatening situation while halfway through his fourth glass of whiskey. He didn't even realise how many drinks deep he was in till a pair of expertly manicured fingers clicked repeatedly in front of his eye, blurry through his somewhat slower mind.

"You good, big guy? Being all spacey on us." Lizzy's raised eyebrow quickly let him know that she was already aware of the answer, she was more interested in what his dismissive response would be.

"Yeah, fine, long day is all. Just need a couple drinks." He turned his eye to nowhere in particular on the opposite wall, hoping no one noticed the way his rough fingers drummed against the glass held firmly in his palm.

"Bit late for that, M. You've already been through 'bout 3, nearly 4." Uzi pointed out not-so-helpfully, even if it was something he himself hadn't noticed.

"...Maybe a few, then." He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster, but failed to convince his sister.

"Yo, you might wanna slow down, man. You trying to put yourself to sleep?" Veronica placed a hand on his forearm, which he hadn't realised was most of the way to lifting the glass to his mouth.

"I'll be fine, you know I can handle my liquor just fine." Regardless, he decided to return the drink to the table, but her hand remained where it was. 

For just a moment, the 3 of their eyes locked, and that was enough for her to relent. Whether she believed his partial lie about being tired, or decided it was something to address later, he supposed he'd find out at another time. 

However, the short moment of clarity made him more aware of his companions, more so one of their drinks. It was only ever Nolan that didn't drink, so his glass of diet coke was to be expected, but Uzi's wasn't.

"Hey, boss, how come you aren't drinking? You're usually trying to keep up with V and I." He wasn't expecting any kind of extreme reaction, but the way she quickly averted her gaze made him narrow his own. 

"Uh, just didn't want to get too wasted, kinda learnt my lesson by now." She brought the dark liquid up to her lips, seemingly hoping it would hide her clearly nervous expression. He didn't buy it, but if she was so willing to lie, he wasn't going to pry. 

So he merely shrugged once again, and consciously stopped himself from lifting his own glass, if his pace of drinking was only drawing attention to himself, slowing down might be a good idea.

"Seriously Z? You? Learning a lesson?" Thad chucked with mildly burning cheeks, likely 2 or so pints into the night himself.

"Yeah girl, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were pregnant." All except the non-alcoholics at the table found themselves laughing at Lizzy's retort, even Mal and Doll allowing themselves a quiet huff of amusement. 

The problem was that neither Uzi nor Nolan joined them. Silence fell on the group, the tension in the air becoming palpable from the way they both avoided eye contact.

The quiet was only broken by an ear-piercing squeal of what could only be described as pure, unadulterated glee cut through the air, and Lizzy pulling her shorter friend into a hug that Mal swore he heard a crack from.

"OH MY GOD I THOUGHT I WAS ABOUT TO EXPLODE!" If the attention of the bar's other patron's wasn't on them already, it definitely was now from Nolan's cry of relief.

"L-Liz! Can't... breath!" Uzi rapidly tapped the arm of the woman, almost melting once her body was no longer under the near fatal pressure.

"Sorry, girl, this just so..." She couldn't seem to find the right words, and instead fell into a draw out groan that sounded downright primal.

"When'd you find out?" Veronica asked calmly, leaning further across the table in curiosity.

"Only a few days ago. We were planning on waiting until after the first scan, but clearly that plan's gone to shit." Uzi muttered in reply, a hint of spite creeping into her voice, though it wasn't directed anywhere in particular.

"Well, congrats, big guy, happy for you." The bob-haired woman gave her twin brother a playful jab, and the proudest smile she'd ever seen somehow grew wider.

"Yeah, god knows you were practically built to be a father." Mal raises his glass to him, but once again stops it from getting any closer to his mouth.

"Thanks guys, and yeah, it's something I've wanted for a while. Feels kinda..." He trails off, rolling his hands over one another as he searches for the right word.

"Surreal? Like we're about to wake up? Yeah we've kinda both been feeling like that these past few days." She laughs while scratching the back of her head absently, clearly unused to not being sure of her situation. Mal couldn't quite blame her for that, given her habit of going practically unresponsive whilst working on whatever commission she accepted.

"Guess that explains why you've been pretty much inhaling everything you eat at work." He chuckles quietly when he's given another shot to the chest from the smaller woman.

"Hey, at least the weird cravings haven't kicked in yet. It already sucks that I can't drink or eat any sushi..." Her expression shifts into a small pout, but quickly dissolves into girlish laughter when she's pulled into Nolan's side and peppered with short kisses to the top of her head.

"Nah, seriously? That sucks, dude." Thad's golden eyebrows curve upwards sympathetically, well aware of his gothic friend's immense love for the Eastern dish.

"Yeah, but it's worth it for a healthy little brat." Nolan gasps in mock offense at his wife's way of referring to their future child, and the conversation devolves into more banter and laughs from that point.

Mal had decided that still going out despite the... tense day that he had endured, was definitely the right idea. Some normalcy was appreciated, as was the uncanny ability of pleasant distraction that was held by those he called family, even if he only shared blood with the younger Sembly twins. As the night progressed, he stopped consciously thinking about how much he was drinking, and managed to keep himself under control despite the nagging voice that told him he needed something more numbing.

It was easier once he realised that he didn't. He just needed people he could relax around a little. Still, it didn't stop him from indulging in a smoke once he arrived home. The scent helped to relax his muscles, and to make his eye grow heavy as he leaned onto his arms while looking out at the sprawling city skyline.

He just wasn't looking forward to the interrogation that he knew was coming.

The metalworking commissions that Mal was hired for were definitely a good source of income. He could afford the things he wanted, though that list was admittedly much shorter than most. It was enough for the house he had made his own, as it wasn't in the best condition when he first bought it. He could even spare the funds for his own workout equipment, including several machines and free weights, while still having enough room for more space-reliant exercises.

He didn't do many of them, most of it was just stretches. But it was occasionally used for something else- sparring.

Nolan may have been the one to suggest a more open space, but it was Veronica that he sparred with. They'd meet at his home every other Sunday, and it served as a good method of both exercise and stress relief. Whilst his younger brother may be the closest to him in terms of size, it was Veronica that was actually able to fight. And so, that became their arrangement. It kept them both sharp, and one of them knew it was someone they could trade hits with without worrying about injuries.

"So, what was up with yesterday?" She breathed out between puffs, the two of them circling one another with raised fists and narrowed eyes. 

"The announcement? I'm glad for them, think they'll both do well as parents." He wasn't the best at playing dumb, but he was willing to try a few different things to avoid that conversation again.

"You know that's not what I meant." A foot raced to the side of his head, but met the padding of his black gloves with an airy thump. "You were freaked out by something."

He countered with a short jab, missing his mark when she hopped back on her other foot and replanted the first. "Did I come off as freaked out? Seemed normal to me."

The circling began again, both combatants scanning their opponent for any openings. "So what, you were tossing drinks back like a sailor for the sake of it?"

She offered a series of quick jabs, each one being diverted or blocked as he spoke like he wasn't being attacked. "Like I said, just had a long day, nothing serious."

He finally swung back, leaning forwards and turning his hips with the punch. He might have missed, but the sheer breadth of the motion was enough to put her off her feet and onto the mats below. His hand was already held out to her by the time she sat up and opened her eyes.

"I'm serious, Mal. You're acting like I didn't notice your usual habits." He pulled her up as she continued, but didn't take long to turn his back to act like taking off the boxing gloves was a difficult task.

"Habits?" He was only half-acting with that question. He knew he had nervous tells, but was somewhat concerned by the possibility that he had some he was unaware of.

"I know you're trying to get me to tell you so you can hide more crap from us." He didn't miss the bite in her tone, or the soft tapping of her feet as she approached. "C'mon, we're worried about you."

"'We'? Is this about to become a group intervention?" He kept his voice light, consciously suppressing the urge to just tell her to drop it.

"I dunno, is it gonna have to be? You never tell us anything, you never even told us what happened in-"

"And I'm not going to." He turned to face her again, his expression hard even under the fabric that cloaked most of his features. "It... it's not something I'm looking to make your problem, or anyone's."

She stayed quiet for a moment, trying to piece her words together in a way that wasn't demanding he do otherwise. It wasn't in her nature to demand, but it was to try and force people to face the truth. "Yeah, alright, fine. I get not telling us, especially Cyn or Uzi or Liz. But you need to talk to someone. You aren't doing yourself any good by just denying it all."

"I'm not denying anything. I just don't see why my problems should have to be anyone else's." He felt the conversation was getting far too close to escalating into shouting, but it was already too late to change that course.

"Because if they're just your problems, then they'll end up being everyone's!" A heavy sigh almost deflated her being as she pinched the bridge of her nose. He could almost see her counting down internally. "Look, if you don't wanna tell any of us about... that, then fine. But please, just go to fucking therapy already."

"I don't need-" The edge in her glare made him shut that sentence down quickly. "I'll... think about it."

"And that's the closest we've ever been to get you to look after your own goddamn mental health." A wistful smile found itself on her pale features, and it was one he was glad to see, even if she was prying into his life just a little too much.

"Keep going and you'll be closer to the floor than you've ever been." If he had said that to anyone but one of his siblings, they'd probably start looking over their will. Veronica, however, decided that he was all talk, and only laughed harder. That is, she laughed harder until she was dragged into his side and had his knuckle twisting into her crown.

"Wha-hey! Let me out, asshole!"

"I don't think so, you'll have to get me off."

"Lose a few hundred pounds and maybe I could!" He only let her go to allow himself to laugh freely. She was clearly unamused, if the punch to the stomach was anything to go by.

The two took a moment to collect themselves, breathless laughter replacing the thick tension that had previously rooted itself in the air. He did enjoy these sparring sessions with his sister, as it was the only regular interaction he had with any of his family. He kept on telling himself that he needed to think of something similar to do with his younger siblings and his own twin, but that truly was easier said than done.

Nolan's interests were more artistic, and he had already discovered that pencils, brushes, and canvases weren't designed for someone his size. Cynthia was a similar situation. And Jade was almost always busy with her career, even when she wasn't she was busy helping care for the aforementioned youngest Sembly child. Still, none of those were good enough reasons to not at least try.

But he had another priority right now, and it was hoping Veronica would soon forget about what he had just agreed to. He hadn't changed his mind, he wouldn't burden another with his own problems, they were his and his alone. He had no intention on changing that anytime soon.

Chapter Text

It almost seemed contradictory that Mal was a metalworker. Loud noises put him on edge, especially that of roaring flames. Yet, somehow, the workshop felt more calming than anything. Maybe it was the fact that the volume was of his own making, or that the several fires in the building were controlled. It could even be that he actually knew the people here, unlike the thousands of nameless wanderers he passes by on the busy New York streets.

Regardless, the routine that came with the work was comforting; it kept his mind busy, stopped it from focusing on what he thought was pointless. It was also where he received news about the others from Uzi, as the two often got to talking on their self-appointed lunch breaks- one of the perks of working freelance, he supposed. Today was one of those days where there wasn't much to say. Anything that was important he had already found out over the weekend. Not much could top a pregnancy reveal.

And whilst the physical signs hadn't become apparent based on her still-flat abdomen, the appetite based ones certainly had. The cravings had begun, so she was already more than half of the way through a double chicken burger, despite being very adamant just a few weeks prior that poultry had no place on such a dish. Not the strangest craving he had heard of, but he was also only now hearing of any others as the smaller woman recalled a series she had seen on Reddit.

"Ice-cream and pickles are definitely up there though." She mumbled through another mouthful of meat and bread, chunks of onions clinging to the corners of her mouth- she didn't seem to notice or care.

"Aren't cravings based on what the baby needs?" He asked before taking another bite from his own burger- beef this time, though.

"If that's the case, then I've got a weird ass kid coming. I think even liquorice sounded good for a minute yesterday..." A shudder ran through her, and got an amused huff from the giant.

They returned to near silence once again, the only sound in the workshop being the occasional clatter of tools and the rustling of takeout paper. It was unusual, there was typically more conversation between them, but it wasn't particularly surprising given his past mentor's current condition. He'd heard that bearing women were almost animalistic in their appetites, and the circle of crumbs at her feet that was beginning to resemble a demonic warding sigil.

"So," she began, swiping off a smudge of sauce from her chin, "what was up with you last Saturday, man? 'S like you were high or some shit."

Ah. So apparently she did remember. And here he was already willing to put the talk he had with Veronica to the back of his mind. "Like I said, just a long day."

"Mal, I've known you for like 10 years. I taught you how to be a metalworker for pretty much all of 'em. Don't try and bullshit me." Her tone was stern, but the grin on her face convinced him she wasn't entirely aware of what she was asking to know.

"You seem awfully proud about trying to get me to be vulnerable." The grin spread wider, unsurprisingly. "But I'm telling you, boss. I'm fine, guess I just got lost in thought."

"Oh yeah? And what kinda thought train had you trying to drown your sorrows in the strongest whiskey they had in stock?" He paused, not even for a full second, but long enough for her to grow more convinced that something was indeed wrong. In all honesty, he didn't actually remember asking for any particularly potent brews. "Uh-huh, thought so."

She really had backed him into a corner here. His reaction had already shown that he wasn't self-aware, and there wasn't exactly anything else he could pin it on. So instead, he decided he'd just have to give a technically truthful answer, but kept as vague as possible.

"Just... got reminded of some stuff the night before. Back from..." He trailed off, but loosely gestured to the fabrics on his face. That seemed to paint a clear enough picture for her, and guilt creeped into her eyes for a split second.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, man, didn't mean to pry into uh... all that." Now it was his turn to feel guilty. Just a simple gesture was enough to bring down the mood of the entire workshop. He didn't want to imagine what the result of a full-on story sequence would be like.

"Don't worry about it, kinda just happens every now and again, not much to be done about it." He shrugged absently, deciding to return his visual attention to no machine in particular.

"I mean..." Don't do it. Don't start this conversation again. "You could try..." Don't say it. "Maybe going to-"

"No." Maybe he answered too quickly, if the taken aback look on her face said anything. "I've already said, I don't need any of that. It's not like I'm unstable."

"Dude, you do realise literally everyone you know either does or has gone to therapy, right?" She looked unimpressed, and he more than felt it.

"Even Thad?"

"Yeah, him and Liz got abandoned by their mom when they were like 10, and their dad is basically a zombie."

"To be honest, I did forget about that." At least that wasn't a lie. With how well-rounded the twins were, it was surprising for most to learn of their parental issues.

"Even that bit- Jade went." He didn't miss the insult against his own twin, but chose to ignore it in the moment. He had to admit, it was surprising that Jade willingly went to therapy, given that she was as stubborn as both him and Uzi, though neither of the women would ever admit to having anything in common.

"I don't see what that has to do with me. I don't need mental help, I'm perfectly fine." That much was true. His days were spent at peace, so he doesn't see the point in spouting off to a so-called 'professional' for an hour per week to work through problems he knows he doesn't have.

"Dude, you just admitted to having PTSD nightmares." He didn't have much of a response for that.

"Alright, fine, I'll... I'll look into it. Not got time for that stuff right now." Once again, not a lie. He was getting far more commissions at the moment, despite it being spring. It made him wonder if people had decided that medieval armaments were a suitable substitute for Easter eggs.

They returned to silence once again, each of them avoiding any sort of eye contact. The awkwardness had settled without the constant flow of conversation, and without a new one, it was only beginning to fester. He was practically begging both her and his mind to come up with a new topic of discussion, anything to distract him from the thoughts that begun to surface. This wasn't the time nor place for that.

"Can I... be honest with you?" It almost startled him how quiet she suddenly was, and how much smaller she suddenly looked. He nodded, sensing that this was something she wanted to address to him alone, and not any other in the building. "I'm... kinda terrified? Just a few weeks ago, it was just me and N. And now, there's a third person that we'll have to worry about. A kid that's gonna be... part of both of us, and I..." Her breath hitched, but he didn't say anything. He remained silent, and gave her time to collect herself.

"I'm scared I'm gonna fuck this up, somehow. I think I might just know too many people who got left behind by their own parents, cause I just can't stop with all the 'What Ifs?' Like, what if something happens to one of us, what if something happens to them? What if we made the wrong choice and we end up abandoning them? I... I haven't spoken to N about this, or anyone, really. I know he'll comfort me and that I'll believe him, and I'll realise I am being ridiculous, but..."

She trailed off, and he noticed the moisture that began to build in her eyes, and the abrupt tightness of her balled fists on her knees. He waited for a moment, though, just to make sure he wouldn't interrupt. She had to have said what she needs to first, or else anything he said wouldn't really mean anything.

"You want my honest opinion?" She lifted her head, nodding quietly. "There isn't any way to know. Yeah, something could happen to you. To N. To the kid. But that's just part of life. Stuff is bound to happen, sooner or later. Either you or N'll probably end up getting hurt at some point before or after the birth. But that's normal, you've always gotten hurt before, and you can't stop it from happening now, just like you couldn't then."

"So... what? You're saying I should just roll with it? Just let stuff happen?" She almost sounded offended at the prospect, though nearly anyone would, especially in her situation.

"No. If something is happening and you can do something about it, then go ahead. But there's gonna be stuff you can't control. So, my advice is to try and not think about it. Just focus on what you can control, and the moment you're living in. You're only human, so that's the most you really can do. And there's no harm in that, right?"

She pondered it for a minute, the water in her eyes beginning to clear as she wiped it away with her thumb. "Yeah, I uh... I guess not." He let her collect herself, and made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere till she had. "But I wouldn't mind not being human, robots sound kinda sick."

"Y'know, maybe that kid is in danger..." He muttered, taking another hit to the ribs as it turned out she heard that remark all too clearly. On another day, he might've repeated the treatment he gave to Veronica yesterday. But he decided against it, mainly on account of the smaller woman's state, but also because he knew he did somewhat deserve it.

Friday came quickly. The first day of his weekend; another benefit of freelance work and a routine shared by all in the workshop. It was also when he usually spent the longest in his home gym- not having work wasn't an excuse to worm out of at least some labour. His home was one of the only places he felt he had real control over, and that he didn't have to cover up as much to avoid unsettling those around him. But even then, he avoided looking at the polished metal that bore his likeness in its reflection.

So despite it being his first day off of the week, it typically ended up his most productive, especially since the streets were easier to drive through. Shops were quieter too, which was practically a necessity for him to avoid almost being pulled into an altercation. Brushing shoulders was common, even if it was always someone else's shoulder colliding with his elbow. On the plus side, top shelf items were mostly his, as his head peaked over the tops of the dust-coated storage units.

Still, it didn't stop him from handing an item to someone of lesser stature, most of which were the elderly who couldn't safely make use of any stepladders or children who couldn't be left unsupervised with one. It did mean the shopping carts looked quite comical, as they never even reached his hip, often inflicting hell on his posture for the duration of his weekly grocery shopping.

Thankfully, it was only after he had returned home and stashed the items away that his phone began to buzz. He knew the caller ID upon fishing it out of his pocket, and it wasn't one he was gifted with very often. When he held the device to his ear and the call connected, he was immediately met with the sound of a distant crash on the other end.

"Morning, sis. What's up?" He raised his shoulder to keep the phone near his ear while he washed his hands- he'd address the noise in a moment.

A drawn out sigh came before the words did. "Heeeey, Mal. Just wanted to ask for a tiny favour!" The feigned sweetness in Jade's voice was horrifyingly fake, and it was an act she was clearly far too used to putting on to garner favour from their younger brother.

"J, you know that doesn't work on me. Just tell me what you need." A fond expression crept onto him. While his twin sister's personality wasn't the easiest to deal with, she was also probably the family member he was closest with, and he was the only one she was ever truly honest with.

"Alright, then. That crash was Tessa. I would like to request your assistance before she sets something on fire." He huffed amusedly into the speaker. "I'm not joking." He knew that, and that was why he found it entertaining.

"Sure, where are you?" He dried his hands on a towel, while another crash echoed in the distance.

"I'll send you the address now, thank you Maaaal!" She hung up before he could respond, plunging him into silence once again before he sighed and pocketed his phone.

No longer needing his pick-up to move groceries, he snagged the key for the Harley that sat comfortably in the garage. It didn't see as much use in recent months, as he found himself in need of a calmer mode of transportation more often than not. But still, it was a somewhat guilty pleasure of his to own the machine, as the roaring of its engine was like music to his ears, and the wind in his face served to be oddly soothing.

And he'd be lying if he said the looks he got from some people didn't force him to stifle a laugh. For most people he went past on the drive, he didn't bother to change his expression, which made them avert their eyes quite quickly. He only spared a softer face for the children, though even that was difficult to portray with only a quarter of his face being visible.

The drive was short, as he had only been asked to meet Jade at a warehouse in the industrial district, the area in the city that arguably had the least traffic. The call of his engine preceded his arrival, as his twin sister greeted him at the entrance, a look of both trepidation and faint relief on her sharp, pale features. She was in the middle of straightening out her pigtails when he rounded the corner and parked in one of the many empty bays.

She didn't move to meet him, and instead chose to wait for him to approach her. "So, what's got you calling up on a random Friday? First I've heard from you in about a week." He asked with his hands shoved into his pockets, allowing his sister to guide him in.

"10 days to be exact." She stated matter-of-factly, holding her arms behind her as they walked deeper into the structure. "But to answer your question, my superiors asked me to cover inventory management for this week as a measure of my ability to perform in roles I'm not particularly accustomed to. However, a sickness has passed through the workforce for this warehouse specifically, so I have had to resort to unorthodox methods in order to compensate. What that resulted in was..."

Another crash, and he was now face-to-face with the cause; a slightly tan-skinned woman in a mechanics jumpsuit, with thick locks of brunette hair flailing wildly as she tried and failed to operate a forklift. She seemed confident, even with several shattered palettes surrounding the machine and a less than impressed look from Jade. She seemed to have heard them approaching, and her eyes all but began glowing as they landed on him.

"Mal!" She rushed into him in a tackle, failing to topple him but succeeding in grasping onto his shoulders to pull herself up and dig her knuckles into his scalp. He tried to support her with his arm, somewhat concerned by the possibility of her head hitting the concrete floor, but amused by her antics nonetheless. "Aw, how've you been, big guy?"

"Not too bad, still trying to figure out if you two are about to mug me in an isolated warehouse." She laughed heartily in return, before lowering herself to the floor and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on mate, I know better than to try that on you." 

"I think you'd put up a good fight, I still remember you putting that bouncer on the floor a couple years back." She snorted at the memory. The sight of a 6 foot tall bouncer almost having his arm broken by a woman that was a little over half his size was certainly an entertaining one.

"If you're both quite finished, I asked for your help in moving the inventory of the warehouse. Can we get on to that please?" Jade asked him in a slightly less harsh tone than usual, clearly aiming the bite of her voice away from Tessa, as she tended to do.

"You got it, J. What's first?" He removed his coat, cracked his neck, and approached the delivery zone at the end of the aisle- stacked high with palettes bearing a whole myriad of goods.

Admittedly, he had never worked in a warehouse, but he couldn't imagine it being too difficult to simply move some company products from the floor to a storage rack. That was a mistake.

It turned out that forklifts were more complex than he had thought, so he was suddenly much more aware as to why Tessa struggled as much as she did, given that he didn't perform much better. She herself looked like she was asphyxiating from how she was leaning on her knees for support during her laughing fits. 

Jade, on the other hand, he could see the steam rising off of. She was doing a good job at keeping her patience intact, though that was likely because of who she was with. Were she trying to do this with Nolan or Veronica, it would've turned into a several hour lecture or a vicious shouting match. But with Mal and Tessa, she contented herself to merely simmering, even though he could see her pale complexion gaining more colour.

However, after an hour or so, the 3 of them figured out a rhythm. Jade would manage where the stock would end up and guide them through the building, Mal would help load the forklift to ease the cargo on and off the machine, and Tessa was the operative of said machine. The number of crashes quickly dropped until they were no more, so before it reached the sixteenth hour of the day, they had finally succeeded in their task.

Jade looked just about ready to melt from relief. "I don't think I've seen you act so brutish since high school." She muttered beneath her breath, just barely audible enough for them to hear.

"Huh? What's that s'posed to mean?" Tessa raised an eyebrow, leaning forwards slightly to look up at Mal.

He felt his breath get caught in his throat. He thought Jade might have said something else, but he couldn't make it out over the sudden haste of his own heart. Everything around him refused to focus; their faces, the parking lot, the rough scars of his hands- he couldn't distinguish any one of them. They all melded into one big blur, one that felt like it was closing in around him.

It was too loud, the ringing in his ears. It would rise and sink in pitch, like he was being tugged between two different conversations that only sounded like static. He needed something to hold, so he grabbed onto himself, or what he thought was his own arm. He clenched it tight, so was that why he felt some pressure near his elbow? That didn't explain the weight on his shoulder, unless the metaphor decided to make itself literal.

"Mal!" He was pulled down abruptly to a tanned face framed by deep brown twin tails, and was now wondering how long he was out of it, and how he let himself fall into that in front of them. "You don't have to explain it, y'know."

He didn't respond straight away. First, he had to figure out what he didn't have to explain. He must have been unresponsive for a minute or two if he had to think back, but he decided to dwell on that fact later.

"No, it's alright. You were around at the time, so you deserve to know what happened back in high school." He avoided meeting the green of her upturned eyes, heavy with what must have been concern- concern he felt was unwarranted. "After... the accident... we didn't have any real money. So I decided to find a way to fix that."

The look on her face grew heavier, and it only made this harder to explain.

"I loaned what I had to people. I loaned them what little money I had, and expected more back in return. I'd do jobs for them, and they weren't always... moral. But sometimes they didn't hold up their end. Guess they figured Nolan's older brother wouldn't be too strict, and that Jade must be the exception. They didn't know how much we needed that money, or what I'd do to get it."

She didn't say anything, and her expression became unreadable, too much so for her, and too much so for his comfort. It looked like she was trying to piece together a reasonable response- he would've considered yelling to be a good one.

"Do N and V know? Does Cyn?" But of course, this was Tessa.

"No. It's never come up. I'd tell them if they asked. It was something stupid I did as a teenager, not that I'd do now." At least only the last part was untrue, though it almost looked like she picked up on that.

"Alright then. Just... keep to that, yeah?" She gave a half-hearted jab to his arm, having decided not to call him out. "Nice seein' ya, big guy. Take care, ya hear?"

He huffed quietly at the gesture, returning it before turning to his blood sister. "I'll see you around, J. Just remember to call me around if you need help."

"Very well, Mal. And..." She turned to face Tessa, who met her eyes with a grin that put a faint blush across her sharp cheekbones. "Thank you, for your help."

He had seen that interaction far too many times since they were young, but would give up anything to make sure he could keep doing so. "No problem, sis. See you around." He called the last part out as he returned to his bike, driving out of the lot behind the two and turning in the direction of his home.

It was still fairly light out, though the sun was certainly lower in the sky than it was before their conversation. The purr of the engine stood out amongst the silence of the industrial district, as did the lone light of the vehicle in the dark streets. 

His mind had begun to wander unimpeded, directly into the deep crevices he intentionally avoided. He always went past his memories of childhood, but that reminder opened up a new route for his conscious to explore, one that he had closed years ago.

He didn't want to go back there. There were many places in his mind that he held the same feelings for, ones he hadn't managed to block off quite yet. Maybe he couldn't do that with so many memories. Those recollections of high school weren't especially pleasant, and brought up far too many questions he didn't want to ask, and just as many that he didn't want answers for.

Were the things he did excusable? To hurt someone else for the sake of another? He could still remember what it felt like. The sensation of his fist creating a sick cracking sound as it connected with a nose or a forehead. He heard them apologising, swearing that they could get what they owed, begging him to just stop. To stop punching them. To stop throwing them against the wall. To leave them alone. To give them more time.

He remembered that he said 'no'. That they sobbed when he said it. His family had food on their plates, clothes on their backs, books on their desks. All they got were bandages, plasters, and warnings not to tell a soul. And he got these memories. Memories of pain he caused, pain he regretted having caused, pain he would cause all over again if he needed to.

When he thought about it, he could still feel it. The bruising on his knuckles, the way their face would soften with every hit, the faint warmth when their blood or tears would land on his fists. He always had to wipe it off before he spoke to his siblings. It was when he didn't just one time that Jade found out. He remembered the lecture she gave him, but that she didn't ask him to stop. He never knew why, whether she didn't want him to because she knew they needed the money, or since she knew he wouldn't because he knew they needed it.

He stopped trying to shut the thoughts out. It took too much energy to try- energy he didn't have. Energy he needed to focus on the road, to make it home in one piece so he could get it all back with a cigar and a night of rest.

What was that blaring light on his side?

Chapter Text

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Mal asked quietly, his hands planted firmly within the pockets of his bomber jacket. He narrowed his golden eyes at the carefree boy across from him in the constrictive alley. He put in the effort to appear calm, to appear at ease, even if it was far from the truth.

He was angry.

"Yeah, sorry, man. I guess I lost it, but I'll owe ya big time if you let me off the hook!" He didn't quite seem to understand the situation. He was smiling, his eyes weren't on him, and his feet were already posed towards the street, clearly prepared to walk away without anything else. "Thanks, man, I'll get you later, alright?"

He was already halfway out when Mal gripped his shoulder. Tightly. The boy laughed uncomfortably, not quite ready for the sudden contact. "It's not 'alright'. You agreed on the money. So I'm expecting it."

"Uh, sure, dude. I'll uh... I'll pay you back later, alright?" He tried to pull away, but his grip only grew firmer.

Mal withdrew his other hand, already clenched into a fist, just to try and alleviate the pressure he felt building in his own head. He had heard one too many 'later's. "There's not gonna be a later." He pulled his arm back, taking the smaller student to the ground hard. "You either pay me here in cash, or do the same later. With a black eye."

The kid still didn't seem to understand. He just thought he was talking to the gentle giant of the school. The guy who never raised his voice, who always looked more prepared to sleep than work with the way his features always looked lax. The elder brother to Nolan, the nicest guy anyone would have ever met.

It was only when he maintained the steel of his glare that he seemed to realise that this wasn't the same person.

"Hey, man, listen, I can-" He couldn't finish, not when a boot made contact with his nose. His head was thrown back, dashing it against the concrete whilst blood was already beginning to trickle down his lips. The next sounds that came out of him were shouts and groans of pain. "Ah- what the hell!? You broke my nose!"

But those words weren't 'here's the money'. So he lowered himself down closer to his level. He grabbed the collar of the boy's shirt. He reeled his arm back. He brought it fourth. There was another sickening crack as his fist met flesh.

Still, he didn't hear those key words. So there was another crack. Another shout. Another sob. Another attempt to bargain. Another plea to stop. Another splatter. Another spark of pain across his knuckles. He lost count of how many by the time he heard all that he needed to.

The stinging in his hand was something he pushed to the side. Instead, he simply held out his palm whilst the snivelling teenager struggled with his coat to pull out a handful of bills. He looked them over, flicking through what was there and adding up the numbers.

He was 5 dollars short. He felt that same familiar spark as he drew the conclusion, the paper crinkling in his grip as his eyes returned to the boy, the fire within them clearly aimed. But this time, when he insisted he didn't have the money he had promised, he could tell it was the truth, if the scattered items strewn about him were anything to go by.

A heavy sigh deflated his shoulders, before he rose to his feet and turned to leave with his clenched fists shoved into his pockets. "1 week." With that, he left.

The cycle would repeat. Someone would try and excuse themselves from paying what they owed, thinking he'd let them off through one way or another. They thought his calm and easy-going reputation would prevail, and each one of them was proven wrong. He didn't need the money.

But his brother? His sisters? They did. They needed food, clothes, school supplies, medicine. For all of that, he was willing to do what was necessary. He didn't want to, and his family needed that money far more than they did, so it was okay.

Wasn't it? Was it right that he essentially brutalised people for their pocket change? Even if it wasn't for him, does that suddenly mean what he did was alright? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe there was a better way.

But that wasn't something he had the time to figure out. He had too much to lose, too much he couldn't live without. So if the only solution he could think of was to paint his hands red and to colour their cheeks black and blue, so be it.

This would be the worst of it, after all. Just get out of school, get a real job as soon as he could, one that could pay for all they needed without bloodshed. Just a few years of violence, and he could put his fists down, really be that gentle giant.

Just a few years, just a few more years...

Right?

It was bright. Too bright. Why was the light so strong? He couldn't remember going to sleep with anything on. Though, he also couldn't recall seeing his bed at all last night. And what was that beeping at his side? It sounded familiar in a way that made his heart quicken. Why did it get faster?

He finally opened his eye, and raised his arm to shield it from the stark lighting of wherever he was. Everything around him was either white or a pale blue- even the thin gown that he knew for a fact wasn't his own. Still, he knew the look of where he was; a hospital was easily recognisable after all, even more so for his family.

Knowing where he was didn't explain much, though. It especially didn't give any answers for why his left arm was in a cast, and why there was a numb pain that ebbed down his spine. Bandages covered his chest, some around his abdomen too.

Questions continued to cycle through his head, till the door opposite his bed opened carefully, and a head of thick brown hair falling down to the waist slipped through. She didn't say anything, nor did she meet his eye whilst reading through something on a clipboard. She appeared somewhat irritated as she did so, leading him to stay quiet lest he worsen her mood.

He didn't have to, as the amber of her eyes met the gold of his own. "Oh, you're awake." She was clearly startled, far more so than someone should have been upon walking into another's room to find them awake unexpectedly.

"Looks like it." He didn't know what else to say beyond that- it had been some time since his last injury that put him in a hospital bed.

"That's good. Is there anything I can get you? Water? Something to eat?" She managed to quell her surprise, which he wanted an explanation for far more than a drink, even if his throat did feel dry and his stomach empty.

"I'm fine. How come you looked so surprised to see me awake? How long have I been out for?" He asked as calmly as he could, given the growing pit of concern within him.

"Ah, well, we usually give the patient an hour or so before talking about that." She pulled a chair up to his side, and it was only now he could see how tall she was, probably around 6 foot by his guess. "But you seem pretty aware of where you are. Do you remember anything at all before waking up?"

He shook his head. He recalled a less than pleasant dream, but decided that wasn't something he wanted to bring up.

"Well, that makes sense. You were in an accident. From what people said at the time, you were in a collision. A car hit you from the side whilst you were on your motorcycle. Does any of that sound familiar?" It was coming back to him; the warehouse, the conversation with Tessa, and the drive back home- though he clearly didn't make it that far. "Well, that was 2 weeks ago. You've been unconscious since then, and you've sustained significant damage across your whole body."

2 weeks? That didn't sound right. Surely just a crash shouldn't have put him out for that long. "How bad is it?" He kept his voice steady, and his face even. He had his facemask on, so someone must have decided it was something he'd prefer.

"Multiple fractured vertebrae, broken left arm, fractures in your right shin. You also took a heavy hit to the lower torso, so we had to put you in surgery. There weren't any major complications from what I was told by the surgeon. However, we would like to keep you here for a while to monitor your condition, being out for 2 weeks tends to make us a little concerned." She spoke carefully, but seemed remarkably calm for someone speaking to a man who was likely over twice her size.

He remained silent, his eye flicking over to the machinery he was hooked up to. All the numbers looked fine to him, but he wasn't going to just shrug off the advice of a professional.

"I would like to ask if there's anyone you'd like to call? Your phone survived the crash, so we've kept it at your bedside for if you woke up. But is there anyone you'd like us to call? From what I got on your file, you don't have any emergency contacts put down?" Her wording grabbed his attention, as he heard the sound of the heart monitor just barely pick up speed.

"'If'?" He raised his eyebrow, his expression laced with skepticism.

"Well, Mr. Sembly, with your injuries, and the length of your unconscious state, there was no guarantee that you'd make a recovery. In all honesty, it's a miracle you survived the injuries I'm seeing here. Your surgeon herself looked terrified when you were brought in." She explained with a sigh. He didn't know why, but something in her eyes pulled at him.

"...Was it Lyubov?" He asked quietly, making it a point to avert his gaze to the blankets covering him.

"...I'll let her know you're awake." She rose to leave, turning back to him once more before doing so. "I'll be the one looking after you whilst you're here. So, if you need anything, you'll be asking for Dr. Sokolov."

She was gone before he could respond. He couldn't quite explain it, but something about the way she spoke to him was different. Most people were uneasy, constantly looking for a way to leave the conversation without coming off as rude, as if he'd become violent if they did. People never met his eye, always kept their heads down- sometimes they even crossed the street once they noticed him.

But she didn't. She made eye contact. She spoke to him like anyone else. She was only concerned regarding his actual health, and not that he might pose a threat to her own. She was clearly different somehow, even other doctors would struggle to maintain professionalism around him. But not her. Hell, even Uzi was a little unsettled back when he first met her, the woman he could vividly picture fighting someone the size of her husband and 3 times her own weight.

His thoughts were cut off a few minutes later as the door reopened, and a familiar head of straight, deep blue hair entered. He and Doll shared a similar quality of appearing either perpetually tired or forever annoyed- but right now, the pale woman looked beyond exhausted. Dark bags clung to her eyes, which teetered between unfocused and sharp, but stayed on him regardless.

He didn't know what to say in this situation. She looked ready to collapse, slap him, or both. He didn't want to increase the risk of either, so he stayed quiet.

"Ty chertov idiot." That must have been the wrong choice.

"...Thanks for not letting me die, Lyubov." He said it quietly, deciding that he should keep his own voice quiet in hopes she would do the same.

"No emergency contact? Not one? Not even one of your sestry?" She kept her feet at the door. She must have been close to hitting something, if the way she clutched at her sleeve was anything to go by.

"If I was in an accident, it'd be my problem to deal with, not theirs. I don't want one of them getting a call in the night to say I kicked it." He explained slowly, weighing each of his words so as to not draw out a more vocal response.

"Nu i chto? Instead you want them to just think you disappeared? What would that do to them? To Nolan, Veronica, and Jade?" He stayed quiet once again. "And what about Tessa? What about Cyn?"

"They'd be fine. They're all strong, they can manage with one less brother." He dismissed the point. The idea of it hurt in a way he couldn't exactly place, but he understood the truth in what he said.

"...Ty ser'yezno? Do you know how they talk about you? Radi vsego svyatogo, N talks about you like you're his otets!" That must have been hyperbole, why would Nolan treat him as his father?

But still, even though he struggled to believe such a thing, the thought of not being around when he's viewed in such a way was painful. So he didn't say anything. How could he? What wouldn't sound uncaring, or like he was just shrugging off the way Doll felt?

"...The hospital hasn't allowed any visitors, but everyone knows you're here. They'll probably visit tomorrow." She almost whispered it, only barely audible enough for him to hear.

He looked back up at her, and it was only then that he saw the moisture in her eyes. He didn't understand why she was so upset. Not once in their years of acquaintance had she cried, at least not in front of him. But now, here she was; the strong, stoic, Russian woman that he smoked cigars with as they sat in silence for hours.

"...I'm sorry, Lyubov. I... I didn't think this was a big deal-"

"You almost died!" She cut him off before he could continue. "You were driving home one day and you almost fucking died! Khristos, what the hell is wrong with you?" The tears were flowing freely now. It was strange, it almost felt like there was some pressure on his shoulders because of it. 

"Because I've almost died a hundred times before. To me, it's nothing I don't know." That much was true, he had been numbed to the experience as one often is after overexposure.

"But it's not to the rest of us. I know you already spoke to V about this the same week as the accident, but still. You never told us about it. You said yourself that you haven't told anyone."

"I... I get that you all want me to. But it's my problem, no-one else's." He averted his eye again, and felt his fingers subconsciously gripping the fabric of the bed.

"But it clearly isn't anymore. Slushat', Mal, because I know the reason you were in the crash was because of your psyche, I can make you attend legally required therapy." He looked back up at her quickly, his face hardening at what felt much too similar to a threat. "But I'm not going to, because I respect you. And I trust that you aren't refusing it out of pride. But it's causing problems. For you and your sem'ya. V looked ready to choke the receptionist when she was told she couldn't see you."

The image checked out, given how the woman had developed a more standoffish personality over the years. But the image of her doing it after being told she couldn't visit him didn't. "I can say you're not wrong, I gave up my pride a good while ago." That sounded far more melancholy than he intended. "But I still don't see how my problems are harming other people."

"Is it really that hard to believe that people care about you?" He didn't answer. "That you mean something to someone?" His silence was enough of one. Having received one, a realisation fell upon her, and her gaze widened slightly as she tried to meet his eye. He knew what she was thinking, a question she thankfully decided to keep to herself.

The quiet that fell on the room was oppressive, bordering on tangible as each breath felt more laboured than the last. This silence wasn't the kind they usually found so comforting between one another, it was wound tight on his throat, and he could feel it only growing tighter.

"Have you had any pains since you woke up?" She wiped at here eyes with her sleeve, approaching the bed with a stoic professionalism. He shook his head in response; a lie, but a convincing one as she hummed and looked over the display on the heart monitor. "You're stabil'nyy, at least. Did your doctor give you her name?"

"Sokolov, yeah. She mentioned that you were the one who did the surgery." The last part came out quietly, as a sense of shame settled in him.

"Not vesel'ye to cut up your friend that's inches from death. Looks like you've ended up with another scar." He figured as much given the number of bandages he was still clad in weeks after the event.

"Sorry, that... that you had to see that. I get the feeling." She paused at that, the expression that fell on her features one he didn't recognise. She parted her lips as if she was about to ask a question, but closed them again quickly. That second part may have been too much.

"I'll... let you get some rest. Pogovorim s toboy zavtra, Mal." He bid her the same farewell before lying his head back against the pillows.

He could feel the weight of his eye, but couldn't find enough willpower in him to fall into slumber. So he contented himself with merely hiding behind his eyelids. Perhaps not the best idea of his, as now he lacked anything to focus on to distract his mind from what had just occurred.

Was she really so upset that he didn't have any emergency contacts? Or maybe it was because he was foolish enough to get himself hurt. He wasn't particularly pleased with himself for that either. Though nothing in this situation seemed worth crying over. Whilst he may have gotten injured enough to be unconscious for 2 weeks, it wasn't anything major, at least not to him.

That might of been why, maybe it was just their perspective of the situation, he knew for a fact he'd become borderline feral if he found out someone crashed into one of his siblings. But that was different. He cared far more about them than he did himself- they meant everything to him.

So why were they all apparently up in arms after being told something as simple as not being able to visit him?

None of it made sense. 

It didn't make sense that he was so distracted he let himself get hit by a car, that he was injured enough to be out for as long as he was, that Doll and everyone else were so stressed about the whole incident. It was times like these that made him wish for simpler periods of his life. At least for a few minutes, anyway, till he recalled that stinging sensation in his knuckles.

It must have been hours that he spent running in mental circles of letting his mind wander before shifting it onto another track once the road grew more rough. He couldn't quite tell though, all he knew was that the background noise of busy hospital hallways had begun to simmer down till he could only pick up on the occasional pair of shoes pacing past his room.

His eye only opened once again when he heard the click of the door, having been closed by the same doctor from earlier. He didn't hear her enter- had she been trying to be discreet in case he was asleep? It was considerate, so he didn't want to be rude and disregard the effort.

"You don't have to sneak in." She snapped her head around to face him, amber eyes meeting the gold of his own once again. "Thanks for trying, though."

"Hah, I'm usually better at it." The same chair was pulled up, and she pulled the back of her coat up just like before. She must have done this whole routine a thousand times before. "Just wanted to check on you, we do it for everyone before they go to sleep, so don't worry about special treatment."

"Not expecting any. I'd rather be out quick and get this all over with." He pushed himself up to better address her, the last thing he wanted to be here was rude.

"Ah, you're that type, huh? You too tough to be taken care of in bed for a while?" She cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, resting her clipboard on her crossed knee.

The comment managed to draw a small chuckle from him, partly because he knew he couldn't honestly deny it. "Guess there's always work to be done. I'd rather be up and about than stuck in bed all day."

"Can't say I disagree. I get antsy on the weekends if I'm not in the gym in the morning." She laughed beside him warmly, making a few short notes as she did so.

"You do more cardio or weights?" He wasn't usually very talkative, especially if he didn't even know someone's first name, but he knew he needed a distraction if he didn't have much he could do in terms of physical activity.

"Bit of a mix, but I like to have at least a bit of muscle." She rolled a sleeve back, revealing a toned arm with defined musculature. The subtle heat that rose to his cheeks was a clear enough sign that this was a good distraction.

They continued to speak for a short while, mostly exchanging gym jargon between one another whilst sharing an occasional dollop of banter. To him, it was a welcome reprieve from his own thoughts; an efficient deterrent for the nagging questions regarding the incident. 

There was something else though. He was used to how he interacted with his own family and inner circle, and was familiar with the dynamics they all shared. With all of them, they were comfortable with one another, as he had known each person for years or even decades, so it was no wonder that they could speak easily.

This was different, somehow. She didn't know him, he didn't know her. All they were certain of were their appearances, and even then over half of his face was shrouded by fabric. To him, she was a tall, athletic woman with a chestnut mane and almost orange eyes. To her, he was a towering, well-built man with shaggy, platinum locks and a single golden iris.

Yet despite the disparities in their forms, she spoke to him calmly as if there were none. He struggled to do the same, as to him those differences were all to apparent.

Besides, who could meet someone like him and treat him as if he were a friend?