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That one might be a little too ongoing for me to comfortably share at the moment.

[Voice slightly muffled as he rubs his face.] But it seemed like a good chance.

Thank you. I have to stay here with Kikimora right now. She kind of made a mess and I'm still trying to find out the full scope of it. Do you want to come play a game of chess or something?

[PERHAPS HILARIOUSLY SINCERE:] God, chess sounds great, actually. There are some other discussions I've had recently that I wanted to talk to you about. Nothing ultimately bad, I promise, just... hard. And tiring.

Oh. Of course! Should I have a glass of scotch ready or do you want to bring wine?

[in a tone that's slightly baffled without really knowing why:] Actually, neither. Tea would be welcome, though, if it's on offer.

Tea is always on offer. Mostly because my consumption of it isn't restricted. I'll leave the door open. Kikimora is upstairs. At least she came down for part of the day, which is an improvement from 'I want to sit in this room until I graduate or die'. I think she'll be okay. ...At least until I tell her what she has to do to make things right.

[quietly amused noise.] I'll be over in five.

------

AND LO HE IS OVER IN FIVE, knocking on then opening the door to let himself in. "Malcolm?"

He's just pouring hot water over the tea. It's a herbal mix of cherry and hibiscus. There's a fruity-floral scent in the air as the water hits the tisane.

"Right here," he calls back.

"That smells amazing." He feels odd about the relief in him at the thought of tea and chess. No hazards, no grand excitement, just tea and chess. "Cherry and... floral--hibiscus?"

That makes Malcolm smile broadly.

“Yes. Do you like that? I find the aroma calming.”

"I do. It's lovely."

He takes up a position at the kitchen island, smiling lightly at Malcolm. "How are you doing? I guess this is the first time your inmate has started shit that wasn't just verbal."

“I’m okay. She came with me and settled down when I asked her to. And in the middle of it all, Francis’ inmate did something worse. The only thing I’ve really been annoyed about is the people who won’t wait to find out what I’m doing before complaining about it,” Malcolm tells him.

Neal snorts. "I wonder if that doesn't come from the expectation that you're not going to do anything, or that they'll never get to know if you did. Seems as though it's been like that long enough here that even if you're being honest, they might think you're just trying to put them off."

He sighs. "Which doesn't make it more tolerable. But maybe more understandable."

...Christ who is he, sitting here trying to sympathize with people who would be annoying the hell out of him if he was in Malcolm's shoes. Neal shakes his head.

"...I think I know why I graduated when I did. I thought--I assumed--it was about trust, but I don't think that was it. Or it wasn't just that."

"Oh." ...Well, then, he was right and he didn't really have anything to do with it. "Why was it?" He's still very curious. He also agrees with Neal's theories about the annoying people, but he distracted him with something infinitely more interesting to him.

"I believed you. I believed you really wanted to help me, even though we fought, even though we hurt each other. You didn't punish me for being hurt. You let me have the feelings."

Neal studies his tea with a faint frown. "It wasn't just that I thought I could trust you with the details of a life I never share with anyone if I can avoid it. It's that you convinced me, finally really convinced me, that your goal wasn't to use me. It was to help, because you thought I was worth helping."

Malcolm's expression turns earnest.

"I do want that," he concedes. "I still want to help, any time you need it." He studies Neal's face for a second. "You're worth... well, more than that, honestly. But it's all I have to offer. I really do think that you're the one that's going to usher in real, positive change in this place."

Neal makes a noise that's equal parts pleasantly surprised and mortified.

"I think that may be overstating."

"It's not, though. You have passion for justice and fairness and compassion for people. And people like you. Even if you were just telling them off for being jerks. People I tell off for being jerks hate me forever. You're likeable. Don't underrate that quality. It gets stuff done," Malcolm tells him.

Neal's internal monologue, much like Willa's was when she was included with the Adult Wardens, is currently somewhere along the lines of AAAAAAAAAA.

"Thank you. I... Thank you." He's not sure what to do with all that praise oh god. Neal clears his throat. "I still think it might be overstating a little, but... thanks. Uh. I actually... the other reason I wanted to talk to you, is more around... the why of my graduation. Things I started to accept that I still very much need to practice."

Malcolm’s eyebrows go up. “Oh? Like what?” he asks.

"I believed you wanted to help me. I didn't believe... almost anyone else."

His tone is wry and dry. "And I took--take, really--almost any question or comment as some kind of criticism in disguise, waiting for me to figure out whatever verbal trap they're laying before they can spring it."

It's all very healthy really.

“You mean that’s not the case?” Malcolm teases self-deprecatingly.

Neal breathes out an ironic laugh, looking down at his tea again.

"What I'm saying is I didn't... I didn't approach the other wardens on board with the idea that they were here to help anyone. I didn't have it in me to believe it, I wasn't able to hear any negative word about an inmate's situation without going on the attack because I'd spent so long living in the middle of a bunch of 'wardens' who never let me forget what I used to be in the eyes of the law. To hear what felt like the same thing in a place explicitly meant for redemption... set me off."

"Not everyone agrees what this place is for and nobody agrees how to accomplish it. But you've just... you've made amazing strides in your time here. I told you that you didn't need me for that. You're inherently good and compassionate and noble. You just needed a place that could be safe enough to work out how to be that outloud. I meant it when I said you were a better Warden than I am when you were still an Inmate. I mean it when I say you're just... a better person than I am in general," Malcolm tells him. "I'm so glad I had the opportunity to help you."

"Why do you say that?" It's a sincere question and and a protest at the same time. "Why do you always say I'm a better person than you? I'm not, Malcolm."

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Lmf oops you saw nothing

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