we built this city on broken glass

If any being had been veritably destined to discover him that evening the stallion was inclined to admit he was almost glad it was Malia. He held every faith in Nadya and Claire and Scarlett and Abby and yet each one of them, he knew, would be distinctly more prone to becoming distressed in the wake of finding an arrow protruding from the arm of their Alpha. Malia was....different. Even if in only the way she had been raised and the life she had lived until now. She was sensible, level-headed in most regards and hardly prone to any sort of overreaction. Her insistence that such a wound hurt just as much in the leg prompting that quirk off his lips before he beckoned the woman into the bathroom in turn. That movement off his arm once more prompted that short, hissing breath as Frost moved it away from the sink, a fresh wave of blood dripping down against the floor now as the stallion tossed a towel to the ground in some effort to soak up those rouge droplets. If he stained the tiles they were going to be a damn sight harder to clean than a mere bloodied towel was. His gaze shifted again to his own arm then, the snowy-haired man eyeing it incredulously. His own ability to heal, for once, was working distinctly against him. That wound trying to heal around the arrow and only further imbedding it within his arm. Perhaps he could simply....pull it forward? Yet even despite the pain that would surely bring his newly healed flesh the tail of that arrow was unlikely to fit through the wound in the same fashion trying to pull that pointed arrow-head out backward would be near impossible. This was all decidedly.....irritating.

His violet gaze shifted back to Malia now with the query on just how she had managed to get the arrow out from her leg. The woman insisting Henry had done it. Frost unable to prevent that somewhat dubious look that crossed his features all the same. The stallion perhaps uninclined to believe Henry's supposed usefulness in this very situation and yet he made little comment on it now. Malia equally insistent the arrow she had been shot with had, in turn, been embedded in her leg in nearly the same fashion as the one in his arm. Just how they were going to cut through that steel-like material that formed the shaft he hardly knew. No mere kitchen knife was going to be capable and yet Frost was near reluctant to allow Malia to use power tools in any sense. He hardly believed the woman would deliberately endanger herself and yet her lack of understanding on how quickly to might lose a finger, let alone so accidentally saw off his arm made him decidedly....wary. His query on whether or not she had ever used power tools was readily met with that question on whether or not that worked by magic. Perhaps it was best they avoided tools altogether at this rate. Frost merely offering that shake off his head.

"No, Malia. They work on electricity, like the light."

His free hand pointed upward to the light above to at least provide the woman some explanation and example of the 'magic' that encouraged power tools to work, though what the woman understood of electricity to begin with was perhaps debatable. Frost's question on just how Henry had removed that arrow seemed to prompt some thought from the woman before she insisted he had used 'fence pliers'. That look of near blankness that found the mans features then perhaps gave way to his failing to understand at all what she was talking about. English, after all, was hardly Frost's first language (rather his sixth) some words, on a very rare occasion, utterly unknown to him. The word 'pliers' it seemed, at least in reference to a 'fence' hardly seemed to register within the man as he afforded his companion that baffled look. Whether or not they had them in the kitchen remained to be seen.

"I have little true idea what a 'fence plier' is. I suspect I do not own any unless they are called by another name."

Still, the kitchen seemed as if it would be far better at providing answers then the bathroom. Frost sighing softly then as he moved to step around Malia with that soft gesture to follow. The stallion stepping out into the hall before, carefully, making his way to the kitchen. His good arm reaching to flick on the light. He gestured loosely to that utensils draw then to allow Malia to search through it for these fabled 'pliers' (maybe he did own them?) before resting his arm on the bench. His own free hand reached for his back pocket then, the phone fumbled from within before his fingers ran over that number he knew near off-by-heart. If there was any being whom might hold some knowledge of arrow removal it was surely Alexander. That phone rung for several minutes as Malia fumbled through that draw. Frost shaking his head at the meat cleaver the young woman held upward, the stallion very near about to give up that call when that near gruff voice greeted him on the other end. Frost breaking into that Icelandic then. His features frowned slightly at that near irritable tone he was met with. That mention of an arrow having managed to embed itself within his arm and puncture out the other side prompting a silence from the dark hunter all the same. Frost mentioning both those power tools and pliers that had considered using only to find that silence abruptly cut by Alex's loud beration off him once more. Frost so demanding to know exactly what else Alex had expected him to do before the Hunters sudden and near blunt assurance that arrowheads unscrewed saw his gaze shift down to his arm once more. That curse word near snapped from his lips. Those words suddenly shouted.

"You are fucking kidding me right!?"

That abrupt shift back to English perhaps gave way to the stallions clear surprise in this. Frost glancing briefly back to Malia before shifting back to that icelandic conversation as Alexander explained just how that arrow could be removed without tearing his arm apart in the process. It was almost....endearing really. The level of....worry Alexander seemed to have for him even if Frost himself was assured that arrow was more inconvenience then it was a true risk to his life. His own words softened then all the same. That conversation shifting its dynamic slightly as Frost made an effort to answers Alexanders question on just where and how the arrow had gone through before the hunter offered those instructions. Whatever words Alexander offered prompted that faint touch of a simper to the stallions lips before that phone was hung up. His attention returned to the surely baffled Malia then.

"That was a.....friend of mine. He tells me arrowheads unscrew. We need to unscrew it and then slide the shaft out the way it came in then stem the bleeding. With how much my arm has healed around it though I do not think it will slide quite so easily....."

Frost glanced but briefly back to that phone before deciding against further worrying Alexander with that assurance that shaft was buried more then he suspected the hunter realised. Indeed he was already half assured Alexander might yet show up as it was. Frost distinctly...unused to such worry for his welfare in any sense even if he found he rather....appreciated it. His head shook, removing such ideas for now before resting his arm on the edge of the bench once more, his fingers gently taking hold of that shaft before looking to Malia.

"I need you to unscrew the head, gently, if you can- and once you do that- I will hold my arm still and I will need you to try and pull the shaft out as fast as you can. I rather think that is going to hurt.....a lot."

This....was rather a lot of faith to put in Malia and yet he found he trusted the woman all the same to carry out those instructions Alexander had given.

FrosT