rulesofthewild | kevin: no but for real though

Malia will be the first to admit that she doesn't understand people. Even after all this time in Darrow, around humans constantly and no longer chasing the supernatural or running for her life, human culture is something that eludes her.

Kevin's voicemails are no different. And the flower dog is just . . . weird. But kind of cute. She stares at it from her spot on her bed. It's sitting on her dresser, facing her with its manufactured eyes. She looks down at her phone, then finally grabs it. She stares at Kevin's phone number for a minute or two.

"I'm being stupid, " she grumbles to herself. With a huff, she climbs off her bed, gathers her things, and heads out the door.

It's not hard to find Kevin's scent. She's been practicing. Her time with Derek has been paying off. And it helps that Kevin is everywhere, all the time. Following the scent, though, is a different matter, and she finds herself ready to give up before she realizes she's at his apartment building. She looks at the little name plates and finds his. Tenth floor.

She jams her finger against the buzzer for a long, solid thirty seconds.

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Malia takes a moment to figure out if she needs to press the button to talk or not, then simply says, "It's Malia," in her usual, no-nonsense tone. "Let me in. Um. Please." His voice sounds odd and tinny through the speaker, and she doesn't like it. And she wants to see his face. She doesn't know why. It's not very different from how she'd wanted to see Stiles's face. Or Pietro's, at work.

She's not sure how that makes her feel.

"Oh... Hey. Yeah, come on up," Kevin replies, the slightly annoyed edge to his voice gone, and he buzzes her in. Then he immediately wonders if he should have offered to go down instead. Being in Darrow without a companion, he's had to bend and mold a lot of rules out of necessity, and some he's just completely obliterated because... well, just because. He had no greater reasoning other than that.

Having a member of the opposite sex in his living quarters without another Elder there is definitely not in keeping with the rules. It's rare times like this when he actually misses Arnold. Of course, he doesn't miss hearing him or feeling like he was hauling around dead weight, but just having a second there would do a lot for the ever present struggle of (sort of) trying to stick to the handbook. So long as this imaginary version of Arnold was quiet, and still... and was maybe actually just a cardboard cutout that looked like Arnold.

Malia uses the stairs to get up to Kevin's apartment. Elevators are weird. She doesn't like the weird, swooping feeling she gets in her knees or belly when she's in them.

When she reaches the tenth floor, she follows his scent to his door and knocks. Unlike the buzzer, her knocking isn't obnoxious, but it is loud and firm.

Kevin's just finished tucking away the ironing board when he hears the knock. When he answers, it's with a smile and a short, awkward wave. "Malia, hi." He hesitates, unsure if it would be rude or weird or both if he insists that they talk in the hall. Both. It's definitely both. Or is it? Ugh. "Um. Come in," he says.

He could just... leave the door open. For God.

"How are you?"

Malia glances at the door when she realizes it's still open. "I'm alright," she says. "Are you? You left me . . . weird messages. Is Danny really dead?" After the words are out, she realizes she needs to be more consoling, more considerate, and she tries to wear a sympathetic face. It doesn't really work.

"I did?" He asks, clearly confused. "What kind of weird messa--," Kevin trails off, realization washing over his expression. Danny had gotten a few strange messages, too, but Kevin thought the ordeal had ended there, after Danny had berated him and made him promise to go to church the next Sunday. A Catholic church. That detail was important.

"I'm sorry. For whatever I said. I-- It was rough night. I might have... maybe been under the influence of some illicit narcotics but it was absolutely a one time thing and-- Oh, gosh, I didn't send you a funeral arrangement, too, did I?" Trying to work a phone while sober still baffles him at times, but apparently he has no problems shopping for floral arrangements on when when he's out of it.

"Danny is alive and well," he assures her. "Or as well as he can be. I mean, he's still Danny, so..." Kevin shrugs. She's met him, so he doesn't think it's necessary to elaborate any further than that.

Malia is smiling a little, because Kevin is remarkably cute right now. "I got a dog made out of flowers," she says. "Which is a little weird and kind of creepy, but it's not a funeral arrangement." She tilts her head. "I thought you weren't allowed to do drugs or anything like that 'cause you're really religious."

"That... does sound terrible. Sorry again." Had he been sober when picking out said flower dog, hearing it referred to as 'creepy' might have made him feel bad. As it is, though, he's inclined to agree, and he hasn't even seen the thing in person.

"I'm not supposed to do a lot of things because I'm religious, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have done that just as a typically law abiding citizen. I don't even jaywalk!" No, instead, he'd skipped right to substance abuse. "I don't remember a lot. I guess there was something else in my drink other than the color flashing plastic ice cube."

kevin: no but for real though

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