Man, for people champing at the bit for Altair to come back you're oftly quiet now that he is... Also, back to my favorite! TEXT MESSAGES!! —
Malik reached over and slapped his hand down on his alarm to make it sleep feeling exhausted. He blinked around and sat up very sure that everything that had happened after Ezio had left had just been a dream. A terrible and wonderful dream. Then he heard a rather quiet knock on his door that was very insitant. He rolled out of bed, mussing his fingers through his bed head and opened the door groggily. Kadar was home early it seemed. "Uhm... Malik. I don't mean to alarm you but I think someone's sleeping on the couch."
"Okay," Malik nodded slowly, well that coincided with his dream at least.
"And uh... I think its Altair. You know anything about that?"
Malik blinked, practically startled, he hadn't dreampt that up. He didn't know what was scarier either. "Yeah, I know," he said eventually
"Okay... well that's... Good,” Kadar said awkwardly. “Can I ask why he's there?"
"No."
"But Malik what if-
"Kadar," Malik snapped, "I said no. Just leave him alone," he said using his authoritative tone that he'd honed as a Marine. It was the tone he took when something stupid was going on and people were being idiotoc. On tour he used it on little buck privates who didn't know their heads from their asses. Kadar knew the tone and since he'd gone through the same training as Malik he knew what it meant. Even after all his time as a civilian there was only one responded for such a tone.
"Yes, sir," he said and left without another backwards word.
—
Sometime before noon Malik was startled out of his distant staring at his work computer when his phone went off. He normally didn’t get calls or messages while he was working since people knew better than to bother him so he raised his brow at it for a moment before snatching it up. It was from Kadar, which was even odder since Kadar definitely knew not to text him at work. He slid his thumb across the screen and opened the message.
‘Thanks for leaving the Vicodin for me,’ it read.
Malik blinked several times before he typed back, ‘Altair?’ How had he gotten Kadar’s phone? What was he even doing away? It was only eleven and after two Vicodin and a fucking gun shot you’d think he’d be a lot worse for wear, especially at this hour. And since the text led him to believe he’d taken more how was he, who got loopy on just two pills, functioning properly on enough pills to dull the pain?
“Yeah, just me. I asked your brother if I could use his phone,’ Altair texted back, drawing Malik out of his pensive state.
‘Oh.’ So intelectual, he knew.
‘Thanks again… for last night I mean,’ if a text message could be sheepish than this one was.
Malik’s face worked through a few emotions as he typed out a reply, ‘I’ll admit I don’t normally get people showing up at my door with gunshot wounds.’
‘I’d hope not.’
Then finally he can’t not ask anymore because it is gnawing at him. ‘How are you feeling?’ Why did he care? Malik didn’t want to care. God did he not want to care, but he did, his own empathy turning his stomach into a knot of worry at the idea of Altair still hurt (and probably a bit stoned) in his apartment. That was really just what he needed wasn’t it?
‘Changed my bandages earlier, just a little blood. I’m fine, thanks to you.’
Malik grinned slightly, relieved he was fine and tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t want people to die in his apartment. He didn’t believe himself either and had to change the topic and not dwell on it. ‘Good. Where’s Kadar?’
‘His room. I bothered bothered him for his phone. Somehow it’s more confusing to use than yours, and it’s not even a smart phone.’
Smart ass. ‘Eat something,’ he texted back now that he knew his brother was home so that meant Altair wasn’t home by himself. Which really would have been just what he needed. Not really.
‘I didn’t know if I was allowed…’
‘Eat something or I’m coming home during lunch break and making you,’ Malik threatened, hoping his tone carried through the text.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (65/?)
Also, back to my favorite! TEXT MESSAGES!!
—
Malik reached over and slapped his hand down on his alarm to make it sleep feeling exhausted. He blinked around and sat up very sure that everything that had happened after Ezio had left had just been a dream. A terrible and wonderful dream. Then he heard a rather quiet knock on his door that was very insitant. He rolled out of bed, mussing his fingers through his bed head and opened the door groggily. Kadar was home early it seemed. "Uhm... Malik. I don't mean to alarm you but I think someone's sleeping on the couch."
"Okay," Malik nodded slowly, well that coincided with his dream at least.
"And uh... I think its Altair. You know anything about that?"
Malik blinked, practically startled, he hadn't dreampt that up. He didn't know what was scarier either. "Yeah, I know," he said eventually
"Okay... well that's... Good,” Kadar said awkwardly. “Can I ask why he's there?"
"No."
"But Malik what if-
"Kadar," Malik snapped, "I said no. Just leave him alone," he said using his authoritative tone that he'd honed as a Marine. It was the tone he took when something stupid was going on and people were being idiotoc. On tour he used it on little buck privates who didn't know their heads from their asses. Kadar knew the tone and since he'd gone through the same training as Malik he knew what it meant. Even after all his time as a civilian there was only one responded for such a tone.
"Yes, sir," he said and left without another backwards word.
—
Sometime before noon Malik was startled out of his distant staring at his work computer when his phone went off. He normally didn’t get calls or messages while he was working since people knew better than to bother him so he raised his brow at it for a moment before snatching it up. It was from Kadar, which was even odder since Kadar definitely knew not to text him at work. He slid his thumb across the screen and opened the message.
‘Thanks for leaving the Vicodin for me,’ it read.
Malik blinked several times before he typed back, ‘Altair?’ How had he gotten Kadar’s phone? What was he even doing away? It was only eleven and after two Vicodin and a fucking gun shot you’d think he’d be a lot worse for wear, especially at this hour. And since the text led him to believe he’d taken more how was he, who got loopy on just two pills, functioning properly on enough pills to dull the pain?
“Yeah, just me. I asked your brother if I could use his phone,’ Altair texted back, drawing Malik out of his pensive state.
‘Oh.’ So intelectual, he knew.
‘Thanks again… for last night I mean,’ if a text message could be sheepish than this one was.
Malik’s face worked through a few emotions as he typed out a reply, ‘I’ll admit I don’t normally get people showing up at my door with gunshot wounds.’
‘I’d hope not.’
Then finally he can’t not ask anymore because it is gnawing at him. ‘How are you feeling?’ Why did he care? Malik didn’t want to care. God did he not want to care, but he did, his own empathy turning his stomach into a knot of worry at the idea of Altair still hurt (and probably a bit stoned) in his apartment. That was really just what he needed wasn’t it?
‘Changed my bandages earlier, just a little blood. I’m fine, thanks to you.’
Malik grinned slightly, relieved he was fine and tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t want people to die in his apartment. He didn’t believe himself either and had to change the topic and not dwell on it. ‘Good. Where’s Kadar?’
‘His room. I bothered bothered him for his phone. Somehow it’s more confusing to use than yours, and it’s not even a smart phone.’
Smart ass. ‘Eat something,’ he texted back now that he knew his brother was home so that meant Altair wasn’t home by himself. Which really would have been just what he needed. Not really.
‘I didn’t know if I was allowed…’
‘Eat something or I’m coming home during lunch break and making you,’ Malik threatened, hoping his tone carried through the text.