their requests are always so simple. a box of apples, some foil, a top-up on the haul. and, mal is always glad to give it to them. but she’s also angry. because when she delivers they always thank her so profusely, are always smiling and blushing and holding her cold hands in their warm ones. she’s angry because this trash is the height of their dreams, because that’s the cut off their parents created, because they don’t believe she could do more. she wishes they were more selfish. she wishes they’d ask for something outlandish. a rival’s heart, hundred and one puppies, a country on the silver platter. they could ask for anything, don’t they know? they could ask for anything in the world - for them, Mal would make it possible.









