Psyke/Malcolm
Malcolm pushed and shoved through the crowd, arms flailing greatly---he was sure he'd knocked over a few people's drinks as he went, but ohhh fuck oh hell he needed---he needed to get out of there, right now, oh--oh--there.
"PSYKE!" he shrieked, making the blond turn from her conversation with Clara. The two women turned to stare at the shouting, and Psyke's hand went up in question. No. Time. To. Explain.
Oh, Lord help him, please don't let Harper killhimitwasalifeanddeathsituation.
"Malcolm, what's---Mmmrmmph--" Psyke hands pushed against Malcolm's chest as he kissed her, but his grip around her was far too tight--Merlin, it must really look like they're going at it, it felt like the music had stopped and-
"Oh, so you are straight," a big, husky voice came from the side. Malcolm and Psyke turned to see the largest, tallest, roundest man ever to cross the threshold of a house standing a meter or two from them, and he pouted greatly before leaving.
"I owe you my life," Malcolm sighed, slumping into Clara's seat---she'd taken a topple off and was currently dying of laughter on the floor below.
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