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"Non, mon amour. I am not hungry." Mallory smiled up at Lance as he walked alongside. It had been some hours, but he was certain he would be fine. Speaking of feeding and looking up at Lance easily reminded him of the last time he fed. It was still a vivid enough memory to make him blush slightly. "Your friend Barry, what has upset him? What did you lat quarrel about?"

1
"Oh... I... will it be bothersome to him that I..." Before Mallory could bring himself to answer the question, they were nearly at the car. "Ah, never mind. It is not an important question." Besides, he would certainly find out soon enough whether Barry would be annoyed. Perhaps it would not occur to him to be; Lance had spoken of Mallory as a kid he had along. that did not exactly inspire the belief that they were involved.

I threw back my long silky haired head and bellowed with laughter. "D..." I said between giggles, "does okay mean that the world seems to be a lighter shade of pink and that I feel like sending myself spiraling out of a plane with no clothes and a parachute?" I howled and flung my arms in the air. "I guess I'm fine!" The short period where I had remembered what was supposed to be eating me up with pain and suffering every waking minute was drowned out by all the alcohol I had submerged within myself.

I rolled my eyes and sat beside the two. "Dawn did you go to a bar?!" I looked into her eyes, trying to read whether or not she even knew what planet we were on. I sneezed a little and gave up on it.

"God bless you!" I hollered and sprinkled him with a little dirt I'd picked up off the sidewalk. I watched the little grains cascade over his messy hair and on to his shoulders. "Woops-e-daisy! Sorry, sweetie!" I wondered why I found that funny enough to be laughing so wildly, then remembered the sight of an empty bottle.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Mallory said simply with a small smile as he buckled himself into his seat. Barry nodded and began to drive. He seemed a bit in a hurry and it made Mallory a bit nervous, but he forced himself to relax. Really, he could not think his luck so terrible that he would come to harm the very day he finally left Tamatha! Instead of worrying, Mallory watched the scenery that was New york quickly pass through the window.

"I am certain I will have no reason for complaint." Mallory replied politely, accepting Lance's help. He felt a bit stiff from all the sitting he had done, first on the plane and then in the car. Hoping to alleviate some of the tightness in his muscles, Mallory began a series of stretches on the spot. Stretching was a very important part of dancing, as with any physical activity, after all. Discreetly he looked to Barry. While he had been trying to tell himself otherwise for a while, he felt a touch of jealousy looking upon this man who had once had, and still had it would seem, Lance's affection. Barry was older, handsome and self sufficient... Mallory quickly looked away before he could frown. He'd known all these things would be true before he'd even left the plane! He would not give in to something as ridiculous as envy. Suddenly feeling the need to release some frustration and pent up energy, Mallory performs an impromptu little ballet, or as close as he is likely to get in these shoes, ending with a pirouette. He did not really feel better... but he was no longer stiff. "Shall we go inside?" He asks under a mask of his usual cheerfulness, tugging his lips into a calm smile.

Mallory was nothing if not unfailingly polite. And to be fair, Barry had done nothing outside the bounds of friendship... The rest of the 'boys' they'd left in Tamatha had been more friendly with Lance. So Mallory smiled up at Barry as he replied jovially, ignoring what he knew was an irrational response to the man. "Merde, such a long flight! I've not been on a plane since... quand j'étai enfant. Since I was merely a small child. I admit, I slept much of the way and woke with my body wound tight as a spring. Most unpleasant, monsieur, but I am glad all the same."

Mallory trailed the two into Barry's apartment and his eyes widened as they landed on the wall of windows. He darted over to them, almost leaning on the glass, but stopped himself at the last moment. The windows must be quite enough of a hassle to keep clean, he thought as he looked about the immaculate living space, without Mallory adding his fingerprints to them. Instead he wrapped his arms around himself as he stared out over the city. It was oddly exhilarating to feel above it all as he did not. And conversely it was humbling to note just how small he was in the large scheme of the writhing beast that was New York City. "I think I see it now..." Mallory said softly to himself, "Why Lance so wanted to conquer you." Almost despite himself, Mallory felt a similar desire well up from within.

"It is magnificent. I have seen nothing quite like it. I wonder... I wonder if she is still down there somewhere." But the truth of it was that Mallory's mother could pass on the sidewalk right then and the boy would not recognize her. Would she recognize him? He was barely walking upright when the woman had left him with his father. Why was he even curious about someone like that? Was she not, in her own way, worse than the father who had actually cared for him, albeit reluctantly? Mallory stepped away from the windowed wall and approached Lance on the couch. He sat on the edge of the piece of furniture and began to stroke Lance's hair, toying with the braid and loosening it.