After much stalking, pouting, and demanding, Malvor finally stills. Arms crossed, lips pursed, brow furrowed in the deep contemplation of a man who has absolutely been bested but refuses to admit it.
He sighs, dramatically, throwing his head back.
"Why won't she let me in?"
Arbor flashes. A few quick blinks, then a soft, almost pitying hum in the walls.
Malvor's jaw tightens. "I called out her deep emotions that she is not ready to face," he repeats, voice flat. "Huff. What kind of cheap romance novel bullshit is this?"
Arbor flickers in response.
Malvor's head jerks up. "Excuse me?"
Another flicker.
Malvor gasps, scandalized. "I am not your personal romance novel, Arbor!"
The lights flicker again. Then again. Then again.
Laughter. Pure, delighted mockery.
Malvor growls, pointing a finger at the ceiling. "You are enjoying this far too much."
A single, long blink.
Yes. Yes, I am.
Malvor lets out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, running a hand through his hair. "You know, this is supposed to be my house. I am your god! You should be loyal to me!"
More flickering.
More laughter.
Malvor throws up his hands. "Betrayal. Utter betrayal. Just wait, Arbor. Just wait." He points at the nearest light, eyes narrowing in challenge. "You may be keeping me out now, but when she does let me back in? I am going to be the worst."
Silence.
Then—
A slow, steady, utterly unbothered blink.
A we will see about that.
Malvor groans, rubbing his hands from his hair down to his face. "I hate you."
Another blink.
No, you do not. Drama king.
Malvor glares at the ceiling. "Stop reading my soul, Arbor. It is very rude."
"Bloody hells, do I need to apologize for that?!?" Malvor demands, pacing like a caged animal.
A flicker.
He freezes. "No. Absolutely not. I have apologized so much lately! I hate it!" His hands fly into his hair, as if physically restraining the indignation building inside him. "I am a god! I am not sorry! I am not that pathetic!"
Silence.
Arbor does not reply.
That silence is worse.
"Arbor!" Malvor groans, throwing his hands up. "Damn it! Fine! If you open the door, I will apologize!"
A flicker.
Then another.
Slower this time.
Skeptical.
Malvor scowls, offended. "I am not lying! I will!"
A long, drawn-out flicker, as if Arbor is considering it.
Malvor crosses his arms, impatient. "Any day now, traitor."
The door does not open.
He grits his teeth. "Arbor, I swear to—"
The lights flicker again.
Long.
Taunting.
Malvor gasps. "You do not believe me! Do you?"
Another flicker.
Obviously.
He throws his head back in agony. "This is ridiculous! I have been reduced to negotiating with my own house! I hate this. I hate this!"
Silence.
Malvor huffs. "Fine! I am sorry!"
The door creaks open.
Malvor narrows his eyes. "That was too easy."
A single flicker.
No take backs.
Malvor sighs, stepping forward, rubbing his temple. "This is what my life has become..."
Malvor raps his knuckles against the door frame before stepping inside, his gaze locking onto Annie as she glances up from her book.
"Annie, are you okay?" The words leave his mouth before he realizes, and he groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Damn it, I did it again." Quoting those song lyrics. This time by accident.
He straightens, clearing his throat. "What I meant was... Annie, I, I'm here because that was rude of me."
Her brow lifts, her expression unreadable, but he knows she is very surprised.
"All the gods damn it!" He throws up his hands. "Fine! Annie, I am sorry for teasing you!"
Silence.
Shocked silence.
From both Annie and Arbor.
He shifts uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I, uh... I will not make you face any emotions you don't want to." His voice softens, sincerity creeping in despite himself. "I will not tease you about big things again."
More silence.
It is so unbearable.
"Uh. I am very sorry for being a jerk."
Still nothing.
"Bloody Hells, woman! How much more of an apology do I have to give?!?"
A slow, knowing smile spreads across her lips.
"None."
With those words, their first fight came to an end.
Malvor exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair.
"None?" he repeats, his voice caught between disbelief and relief.
"None," Annie confirms, her smile lingering. small, knowing, dangerous.
His pulse stutters. Gods, damn it.
Something shifts between them, thick and tangible. The air is suddenly too heavy, too charged, the space between them too small, too insignificant.
And then she tilts her head, just slightly. It's not an invitation. Not exactly. But it is enough. Enough to send every chaotic, dangerous thought in his head spiraling wildly out of control.
Malvor steps closer.
Then closer still.
Annie does not move away. Does not break eye contact.
And oh, that is all it takes.
The last thread of self-control snaps.
He closes the space between them in a breath, his mouth crashing against hers, deep, urgent, devouring.
She meets him without hesitation, her hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, demanding more.
And he gives it to her.