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It was a perfectly beautiful day for a solitary picnic at the park with a book and A Look. Said look was from what Malory considered as part of his romance hero wardrobe. Form fitting leather pants, two belts, a loose-fitting collared white shirt with large poufy sleeves and a modest amount of ruffles. It was an outfit for reading poetry against a scenic backdrop. Or, in this case, reading a random Warrior Cats novel.

The rain, sadly, put a small dent in his places. (Or at the very least, made the choice in pants fairly regrettable.) Basket in hand, Malory made a dash for the closest public building at hand, the Destiny City Botanical Gardens. Even in the rain, he could smell it before he saw it.

Malory went from wet to wetter, damp to drenched with the stomp of a foot and a challenging stare. And for a moment he indulged in the angry, vengeful thought of, I am going to find you parents and make them like me more than you. This was more a habit of childhood than a threat he made good on more than once or twice a year. Takin a deep breath, he flung up his poufy sleeves, the excess water splattering the hooligan as he majestically flounced to the ticketing booth.

"Well, I forgive you!"

Holding out his phone for the ticketer to scan his pass, Malory turned his head to give the other a stare. "Yes, I already forgave you. If you want me to forgive you even more, then you have to do a better job of apologizing."

And so he stood aside, waiting for them to deal with ticketing. Mal did so with the sort of patience that also strongly implied that he was being patient.

With a dramatic sigh, Malory agreed, "Yeah! If I've already forgiven you, why bother being more forgiven. It's over, it's done with. Maybe in the future you won't be so rude, but maybe that's a thing you enjoy." Seeing them digging through their pockets, he hurriedly assured them, "Oh...no need to compensate me for damages. A little dirty water won't ruin anything for more than a moment." He sighed again, as if greatly underreporting the harm done to him. A true martyr among his peers.

"If you're determined to make it up to me, you can help me take photos here. The rain really make for some special lighting situations." He'd spam the results at Sparrow with his usual fantastical stage requests.

Another gusty sigh, this person just couldn't make up their mind. Dragging a hand through his wet hair, Malory gave them a dismissive finger wave. "Then do your best." At what, he didn't specify. "Farewell."

No long after, Malory had set up his picnic in one of a series of gazebos, surrounded by flowers, foliage, and the occasional piece of statuary. The picnic consisted of a charcuterie board with a dazzling array of meats, cheeses, fruits, and spreads. Along with a bottle of lemonade, freshly made by his dogwalker that morning. Taking a nibble here and there, the boy spent more of his attention on posing just so against the botanic backdrop, making the best of how his shirt was still a little wet, clingy, and slightly translucent.

it was going perfectly until he saw a familiar figure in the background of the latest picture. Spinning around he put a hand to his chest and called out over the rain, "Are you following me?!" As if the gardens weren't a public space that both of them had just entered.

Expression turning sympathetic, Malory thought for a moment and then adjusted his position in the gazebo to allow them a better view. Of him. "It's fine, I can't blame you. Just no flash photography, please." It was his least favorite lighting.

Mal very considerately posed for them with a peach in hand even as there was a thunderous crash from above, lightning flashing across the gardens. The downpour, which had seemed to be letting up just a moment before, took a turn for the brutal.

And then came the hail.

The deafening boom that followed the strange, almost mystical pronouncement startled a yelp out of Mal, who dropped both his peach and his romance hero posturing. Suddenly the rain seemed a lot colder and unpleasant, worse even than being thoughtlessly splashed by random middle schoolers.

With a shiver, he frowned at the retreating back and then down at his phone. Maybe he really would have to cut this outing short. Taking a selfie of himself looking pale, flushed, and sad-eyed, Malory sent it out to a random little black book entry, along with a demand for a ride home. (He also sent it to one Sparrow Riley to see their opinion on the dramatic natural lighting.)