"I normally wouldn't have even allowed Will to be there, but I knew he'd want to take the change, too." You adapt or you die. That's the way of things. "Iris didn't know better. I didn't turn her the way I turned you, it was an experiment with her, test tubes.... But no, Sweeney isn't Pack, and I wouldn't have let him be there. It would have been a smaller affair."
Malcolm’s face falls. He said what he was saying wrong again.
“No,” he says, though there’s uncertainty in the way he fidgets again. He clears his throat. “No. I didn’t mean Sweeney. I was just trying to say that I don’t think Will feels cheated by getting Iris’ made up version of the ritual. Which was. Very ritual-y.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably.
“Yeah. He loves being a wolf. He’s better at it than I am. But he’s always spent a lot of time with dogs.” He pauses. “If Iris is supposed to be in charge when you’re gone, why didn’t you train her?” It’s curious, not accusatory.
"Is Will thinking about life after the Barge yet?" Lark asks, and might have left the question unanswered. In Los Angeles he would have. He ignores the questions he doesn't feel like answering there. He does that on the Barge sometimes, too.
But Malcolm's pack, his last chosen pup, so he deserves an answer. "I don't always know what traditions she'll respect. They don't mean as much to her--she's very nontraditional. I don't want to pass along something that matters to me to someone who can't appreciate it."
"The beach house," Lark decides. "The one near Alec and me. You'll like it, it's a new build, custom designed for wolves. All the handles are friendly to paws."
"Where does the money come from?" Malcolm asks curiously. "Does the pack have investments?" His mother is a shrewd investor. Especially in real estate.
He nods. "Investments, real estate, the law firm, grants from the government for the nonprofit interests. It's all pretty above board now. My second pack was made up mostly of lawyers and that got the money rolling in; the pack since then has mostly been veterans so I had to look for outside resources."
He tips his head, thinking. "I could see you working for the CBI. California Bureau of Investigations. You still want to stop killers, right? But ultimately, yes, you'd report to me."
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No. Not even a little.
But it's done.
"Good for him," Lark drawls. "I'm sure he'd love if we all gathered to gawk at his rituals, too."
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“No,” he says, though there’s uncertainty in the way he fidgets again. He clears his throat. “No. I didn’t mean Sweeney. I was just trying to say that I don’t think Will feels cheated by getting Iris’ made up version of the ritual. Which was. Very ritual-y.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably.
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Adapt or die.
"Will's happy? Really happy?"
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But Malcolm's pack, his last chosen pup, so he deserves an answer. "I don't always know what traditions she'll respect. They don't mean as much to her--she's very nontraditional. I don't want to pass along something that matters to me to someone who can't appreciate it."
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“What are they like?”
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"Something with an open floor plan. I like... a nice open space."
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"...Just like that? We can just... have a beach house?"
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