Rubbish collection

Even though it was a wordless answer, Malik could tell that Kite didn't agree with his answer from the huff she made in response. He shrugged a bit and looked back up toward the sky, his hazel gaze following the patterns of the stars that glittered above them while he waited for her to finish washing the remnants of the flood from her bracelet. It was a quiet night with just the sound of the flowing water breaking up the silence and he was content to just sit with her while she worked. He always felt such a peace at night and it was easy for him to lose track of time while he was star gazing.

Eventually Kite was satisfied enough to stop scrubbing and hang the bracelet, finding a seat next to him instead. He didn't look away from the sky right away when she began to speak, sharing her drive to be the best warrior in the Armada. What did eventually pull his attention back to the aqua-splattered young woman was her desire to tear down the pack and take it from its current leaders–which of course he knew now to be her father. The violent desire made his brows knit together a bit, but he was never one to jump to conclusions or make assumptions from face value. "I'll be the first to admit that I know very little about the inner workings of a pack or anything of that sort... I grew up out in the wilds, traveling from place to place and living off the land. So if you don't mind me asking... what makes you want to take the Armada?"

"Malik of the Sea"