Mew. “Aw.” Mind you, it was a bit cliche, but Mal was all about the freedom of choice and deciding on what made you happiest. Also, he had this nagging idea it was a Pokemon's name, but, pfft, what did he care? But then Gus so-so explained, and Mal narrowed his eyes, and commented, “I genuinely didn’t understand a half of that. Damn, how does Annie even love me?”
A father who didn’t speak her jargon. Pffft, obviously, he was sitting Gus down for a steamy ass session or two of Pokemon. Get the juices flowing, you know, sticking them where it was hot and they had to take off their coats and maybe end up flexing their muscles at each other in some primitive mating ritual that hopefully did end up in sex. Only, he wasn’t really gay enough to want it, but just gay enough to roll with it if it happened.
Although not with Gus. Don’t get him wrong, Gus was an extremely gorgeous man. But he also wasn’t Adie.
Also, they were friends. Finger waggle you nasty slut, you, you do not bang friends unless you’re chill with losing friends. Where was the point? Right.
They walked together for a bit, finally coming upon the park where a bunch of kids and their flustered but laughing parental supervisions were standing. Seeing him from the distance, one child pulled away from the crowd, spreading her arms out and blaring at the top of her lungs--
It was like a man coming home from war.
And just as dramatically, Mal rushed towards a girl tanner in complexion, with long, thick, black hair that she undid mid-sprint, tossing her pink ribbon away to the shout of Mal’s, “OH NOOO THAT COST SEVEN BUCKS, BABY NO”, but to her dramatic joy.
“PAPA!” she shouted instead of acknowledging the financial loss, at once throwing herself into his arms as he lifted her up into his hold and rubbed their cheeks together, perfuming her in wolf. Her eyes closed, and she wrapped her arms around Mal’s neck, his pretty, bright eyes peering open only once she’d whispered enough nonsense into her ear.
“She says she caught seven whatevers I don’t recall the names of,” said Malcolm, calmly walking back to Gus and waving the other kids and parents goodbye. See ya, sluts! Only he obviously couldn’t say that.
They reached Gus, both the father and daughter rosy-cheeked, and she gasped, saying, “Pussy.”
“Pussy,” she said, and reached out, saying, “Gimme.”
“Babycakes you’re allergic.”
“Daddy, it’s a cat.”
Utterly distracted by each other, since focus was a wild concept, Mal stood them closer to Gus so Annie could caress the kitten. She might have been a child, a dramatic, Hispanic girl with an early flavor for suspense and theater, but she was a gentle one. Softly, she patted the kitty, her eyes watering and cheeks flushing but her palm stubbornly upon the pet. And she beamed at Gus, content even as Mal finally moved to the side, saying, “Thank you, uncle. What’s her name?”
Her accent was apparent.
“Mew,” replied Mal, one hand safely bracing her against his chest and the other reaching for a tissue in his pocket, so she could blow her nose. Smiling, Annie gasped, her hands to her mouth.
“The original psychic Pokemon!! Get hi-”
“-er a Mewtwo!”
Obviously, Gus now had to.