Of course it's Lloyd! How could it be anyone but Lloyd?
Malos' expression immediately becomes something more akin to a blubbering fish. It's- it should be impossible, he thinks, this should be impossible, kids don't age that fast, right? Anna didn't age that fast! But.
He said his name was Lloyd.
Malos isn't sure if he should feel happy or just surprised to hell and back, his mind still spinning to keep up with this development. He gives up any attempt on being intimidating or hospitible and just plops himself down on the ground, burying his face in his hands, letting out a long, long breath.
Fuckin hell, fuckin hell, that's his grandson.
"Hoooo," he exhales, nice and slow. He laughs, a little, at Lloyd's worries. He's such a sweet kid, what the hell? Most of what Malos remembers of him is just constant demands to be lifted in varying levels of pleasantry, which Malos (of course) obliged with every time because fuck it the kid was adorable and once he got big his parents couldn't pick him up as easy anymore and someone had to do it, right?
"Can't exactly break into your own home, kid," Malos laughs. It is Lloyd's home, even if this Lloyd doesn't make a lot of sense. Malos swears Lloyd's not meant to be older than, what? Seven? Definitely not seventeen. Something fucky's definitely going on, though he's not sure he cares about the what. "How'd you even get here?"
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timeasmymeasure
THERE ARE LIKE THREE PEOPLE WHO CAN DO THIS TO MALOS, CONGRATS KID YOU'RE ONE!
Date: 2019-03-13 05:52 am (UTC)Of course it's Lloyd! How could it be anyone but Lloyd?
Malos' expression immediately becomes something more akin to a blubbering fish. It's- it should be impossible, he thinks, this should be impossible, kids don't age that fast, right? Anna didn't age that fast! But.
He said his name was Lloyd.
Malos isn't sure if he should feel happy or just surprised to hell and back, his mind still spinning to keep up with this development. He gives up any attempt on being intimidating or hospitible and just plops himself down on the ground, burying his face in his hands, letting out a long, long breath.
Fuckin hell, fuckin hell, that's his grandson.
"Hoooo," he exhales, nice and slow. He laughs, a little, at Lloyd's worries. He's such a sweet kid, what the hell? Most of what Malos remembers of him is just constant demands to be lifted in varying levels of pleasantry, which Malos (of course) obliged with every time because fuck it the kid was adorable and once he got big his parents couldn't pick him up as easy anymore and someone had to do it, right?
"Can't exactly break into your own home, kid," Malos laughs. It is Lloyd's home, even if this Lloyd doesn't make a lot of sense. Malos swears Lloyd's not meant to be older than, what? Seven? Definitely not seventeen. Something fucky's definitely going on, though he's not sure he cares about the what. "How'd you even get here?"