we built this city on broken glass

Malia's ready insistence that the idea of power tools was 'stupid' only further prompted that roll of Frost's eyes and yet that amusement of sorts lingered all the same. Malia nothing if not decidedly blunt in her thoughts and opinions, the woman lacking any true ability (or care) to hide just what she thought and yet, in truth, he found that very quality decidedly redeeming. It was rare, where he came from, to find women so bold and so outspoken. It was an attractive quality in a pack mate- and a useful one at that. He enjoyed Malia's boldness, her quick thought and quicker tongue. For all her struggles to find her place in the human world she fitted effortlessly into the pack and he knew, without question, she would defend each and every one of them. She was valuable, for all she brought to the pack. Even if she failed to believe power tools had any use and the fence pliers would surely have done a superior job. Fence pliers, it seemed, was not a word Frost himself recognised readily. English, after all, was hardly his first language and while the stallion was decidedly fluent- the occasional word still find itself entangled within that language barrier. What on earth these pliers were remained to be seen. Frost lacking any true knowledge upon them while Malia herself seemed almost equally as ignorant. The blind, as they say, leading the blind. Perhaps it was better they hardly questioned such a tool any further. Maybe he would ask Henry the next time he saw the man.

Frost shifted easily then to lead the way into the kitchen, the bathroom, after all, was unlikely to possess any truly useful tool for the task at hand. The stallion careful to ensure his feet fell lightly upon the ground to prevent stirring any other pack members into wakefulness His very efforts, it seemed, prompting something of a ready amusement in Malia in turn. That eye she raised towards him hardly missed and yet- he had come to near enjoy her teasing. It was refreshing in every sense. Malia more than capable of giving just as good as she got. That, if nothing else, was respectable. Frost momentarily distracted from even the pain within his own arm as he snorted softly in that amusement.

"If Nadya wakes up our house will be turned into a Medical Wing and neither one of us will ever hear the end of it. My quietness is doing us both a favour."

He cared for Nadya in every sense of the word and yet he knew, readily, how her worry might afflict her. It was better, in this case, to merely keep Nadya in the dark well until that arrow was removed and the wound healed over and she had decidedly little to worry on. The stallion easily made his way into the kitchen then with Malia in tow, that insistence she look for something that might be beneficial readily prompting the woman to open those draws and cupboards before proudly holding up a meat cleaver. Frost near instantly insisting she put it away lest he find himself removed of an arm. His own hands reached into his pocket then, plucking his mobile from within before punching in those numbers he knew nearly off by heart. Alexander, he knew, unlikely to ignore that call even if the Hunter took his time in finding the phone. If anyone knew how to get an arrow out he was near assured it would be Alexander. The elder man hardly disappointing him in this. That very insistence they could merely unscrew the arrow head however readily prompted the stallion to eye that shaft in near disbelief. It was that....simple? That very shout that left his lips startling Malia in turn, the young woman sending that corkscrew clattering to the ground before eyeing him as if it was his doing.

It was several moments later, and with multiple insistences that Alexander hardly needed to come over (Frost still mostly sure the Hunter would show up at some point later), that Frost finally hung up that phone. His attention readily turned toward Malia then, the woman looking toward him expectantly as he offered that vague explanation of that phone call and who it had been before offering that information in turn. Malia, in the least, might very well need it should she find herself shot a second time. The woman appearing decidedly more...gleeful then he was assured she should as she insisted it would be 'easy' and that she had 'got this'. Frost content to eye Malia near warily then, the man holding his injured arm slightly away from her.

"Could you not look at me as if your about to enjoy this? It's very...unnerving."

He had never met anyone so eager to remove an arrow before. The girl appearing almost...predatory in that moment. That distinctly more equine part of Frost inclined to feel that wariness once more before he moved to rest his injured arm on the counter, his other hand holding it still and in place as Malia reached (far to eagerly) for that arrow head. Frost hissing slightly through his teeth once more as several of those turns pressed at that sensitive flesh. This was going to be very....unpleasant. That arrow head was laid easily to the side then, Malia suddenly reaching to hand him a rag, the stallion eyeing it blankly for a moment before Malia assured him it was to bite down on. Frost inclined to agree it was a decent enough idea as he reached to take it from her and press it between his teeth. The stallion biting down a moment later before offering that nod. His head turned away then as Malia insisted she would pull on three. The one uttering that 'one' as she gripped his arm before suddenly yanking.

Frost readily felt his own eyes widen then. That muffled sound that escaped his throat as close to screaming as Frost had ever come. That pain was excruciating. His flesh feeling like it was on fire where that arrow had been ripped clean. Frost biting down so hard on that rag he was sure he'd nearly dislocated his own jaw. Fucking hell. His free hand lifted to pull that rag from his mouth a moment later, that string of expletives falling from his lips in turn, one foot slamming into the ground.

"Fucking fuck fuck, that hurt, Christ Malia! You said on three!"

The sense behind her actions could hardly be denied and yet, here and now, Frost was merely content to shout as that pain continued to burn through his arm- his healing, thankfully, already beginning to act on that wound as his hand took over from Malia's own to hold that rag in place. Frost already rapidly attempting to gain....control once more. That one of the few and only times the man had ever so much as raised his voice. His voice, this time, far more even.

"Thank you, Malia."

She had done well, despite that shouting, Frost pressing that rag more firmly to his arm before flexing his fingers in some attempt to assure they all still worked. His gaze eyeing that kitchen then before gesturing to yet another rag for Malia to pass to him. Frost determined to wipe away any of that evidence before anyone else woke. His companions query on who she had to kill so finally prompting that faint simper to his lips again.

"I never got a good look at him. He was in the park, firing from a distance. I never managed to pinpoint him exactly. Although....I see little reason as to why we can't go back there if your willing?"

One eye lifted near curiously towards Malia then, Frost intrigued as to her thoughts on this before his features frowned ever so slightly.

"Did you ever find who shot you that night?"

FrosT