It was curious really, the way that near wild woman seemed to drift in and out of that house as if she believed he wasn't aware of her and yet Frost hardly made any effort to stop her all the same. He was aware, vaguely, that something had clearly happened to the girl and yet that bond that existed between them- that one that bound him to all his pack-mates in turn assured him she was hardly physically injured in any sense. If she had something to say to him he was assured she would, in time, Frost hardly willing to push beyond the occasional subtle tug on the bond if only to remind her he was aware of her absence. The man having taken to searching for her once or twice when she had been messing for several days in a row and yet if she was determined not to be found- so be it. Frost- for all his possessiveness of those beings that were his, was perhaps equally as inclined to afford them that free rein when they demanded it. The stallion perhaps surprisingly accommodating when he cared to be. He was aware of Malia, always, and yet until the day came in which she found herself physically harmed he was content to allow her to come and go as she saw fit. Provided she answered a true summons if and when it was given and that she did not bring any great trouble to the pack's doorstep the stallion was largely content with her roaming. Even if he did watch over her far more then she surely knew- and she was in a rather poor habit of leaving him her laundry. That- he was sure- warranted a discussion.

It was that bond alone that assured him of her closeness that particular evening, Frost rising from his desk to slip near silently out of his room and onto that landing. The snowy-haired Alpha peering down and into that kitchen below. The distinct sound of someone moving about draw his interest, Malia's own unique scent permeating that air and all-too easily detected by the equine. Hmm. Sneaking food was she? Frost allowing that simper to tug at his lips in a ting vein of amusement before his arms folded across his chest. The man content to merely wait at the top of those stairs. Malia having failed to see him entirely as she hurried up those stairs, the girl stealing a glance over her shoulder only to accidently back herself into him. The young woman freezing as she took those few moments to realize just whom she had walked in to, that yelp admitted as she spun to face him then. Frost allowing one eye to arch upwards at the sight of a ham sandwich clamped in her jaws. Dogs. The man working to prevent his eyes rolling in amusement at the sight of her before her hand slowly lifted upward to grasp that sandwich and remove it from her lips. That near innocently offered 'what's up?' seeing the man lean almost casually sideways onto that bannister rail as he regarded her. His violet gaze finding her own beneath that white hair. His head nodded to that bag slung over her shoulder then.

"Are they clean clothes or have you brought another load to leave on my laundry floor, hmm?"

That he had hardly been impressed with her habits of late was surely clear, Frost hardly needing the addition of words to make his opinion on that known and yet he saw little need to berate her for it all the same. If she needed a lesson on how to use the washer and dryer then he was assured he could find the time for it. Frost eyeing that sandwich in her hands then with the faintest roll of his eyes. Carnivores and their need for meat. He could almost smell it from here. The stallion assured he might never understand why they seemed to like it so much. Frost pushing the idea aside as his gaze lifted to her own once more.

"Are you ever planning on letting me know where you've been disappearing to for days at a time or is that still a secret, hmmm? You don't have to tell me if you don't want too, but I am aware of you each time you come and leave. As long as you haven't gotten yourself into some sort of trouble I suppose it hardly matters. We have to talk about your laundry though."

He could be almost pleasant when he tried. Almost.

f r o s t
we built this city on broken glass