Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The haunting notes of the flute - playing a song that Noah has never heard before, and yet knows, somehow, is deeply significant and personal - are what cause him to pause and then, heedless of Eunie and Lanz and Joran calling his name, fully turn around.

The music is calling to him. For reasons he cannot fathom, finding its source is suddenly the most important thing in the entire world.

As he pushes through the crowd - surging past him in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of Empress Melia before the speeches and fireworks begin - the flute grows louder and louder. He still cannot actually see who is playing it; his ears are his only guide. The simple melody - already starting to loop back in on itself - leads him on a winding path down the back alleys of Alcamoth.

The first firework splits the night sky behind him, but Noah doesn’t even turn around. His friends are going to be upset that he’s missing the jubilee celebration, but all of that is secondary to the driving need deep within his soul.

When he finally does see something, it is not the source of the music.

It is the cobbled stone of the alleyway abruptly splitting apart. 

Not an earthquake - there had been no tremors, and he hadn’t lost his balance - no, it is more akin to someone taking an enormous sword and cleaving the street neatly into two exact halves. 

For a moment, Noah stares into the absolute void of nothingness between his half and the other side. It’s a yawning emptiness, darker and deeper than the night sky. It should fill him with dread, but instead, something in his chest is quivering with anticipation.

The music swells. The flute is playing directly into his ear.

And as abruptly as it had split apart the alleyway is whole once more.

Well… not exactly. The missing segment has been filled, replaced, with a similar but completely mismatched section. The new material is slightly darker, fitting together with the old in long winding streaks, like a set of jagged teeth. 

And none of that matters now, because she is standing in front of him.

Her silvery hair falls in long waves down her back. A ribbon of bright red is all that keeps the mane from falling into her golden eyes. When she gasps, her lips draw back to show small fangs. There are ears on the top of her head, not wings - what is she? 

It doesn’t matter. Because she is running towards him, and Noah is running towards her, and he needs to touch her, to know that this isn’t some sort of shared delusion, that she is real and they’ve found each other again.

(What does he mean, ‘again’? He’s never seen the girl before in his life… and yet on a deeper level, he longs for her, as if she’s the missing piece of his soul). 

Behind the girl, a great chorus of different voices are all shouting her name: “Mio! Mio!” She, too, must have abandoned her people to follow the music. But she doesn’t look back. Doesn’t hesitate. 

She’s a good deal faster than Noah, so they don’t exactly meet halfway. Instead, she leaps straight into his side, his half of the new world, and smiles, and holds out her hands for Noah to take in his, a gentle smile on her face.

He reaches for her-

-and is abruptly wrenched straight into the air by the collar of his jacket. 

Noah yells and wriggles and kicks, but it all comes to nothing. His shoes clang against his attacker’s armor, doing nothing but stubbing Noah’s own toes.

“Keep your hands to yourself, brat,” a man snarls into his ear. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?” 

“What are you talking about!?”

The girl - Mio - skids to a stop. She’d covered the distance between them about twice as fast as any Homs could, but she’s not even winded. (Noah discovers this when she glares up at his assailant and says, in a very loud and firm voice): 

“Uncle Malos! Put him DOWN!” 

“Fat chance,” the man says. The hand that isn’t holding Noah up grabs at his belt - for a frantic moment Noah assumes he is about to be the subject of a schoolyard prank, before Malos grunts and says, grudgingly, “Okay. No weapons.” 

“You could’ve asked me,” Noah whines. He’s given up attempting to escape - it’s obvious that the most he could accomplish is tearing his own jacket, and he only has the one - so now he hangs, limp and mutinous, in the man’s grip. 

“Yeah, no,” Malos sneers. At least, Noah assumes he is sneering. He still hasn’t actually seen the man’s face. “I’m never gonna do that again.” 

Noah feels vaguely guilty for some reason. Which doesn’t make any sense. He hasn’t met this Malos person before, either - he’d remember that, wouldn’t he? Malos is certainly making an unforgettable impression. 

“UNCLE!!!” 

“Quiet down, kid. This is for your own good.” 

“I think,” a new voice says - as deep as Malos’, but gentler - “she’s in no danger from the other ten-year-old, mate.” 

Noah recognized this new arrival as Mio’s father even before she called for her ‘Da!’ It’s the eyes - they’re the exact same color, a striking gold. 

He’s not alone. Just behind her Dad is an entire crowd of what he assumes must be Mio’s family. They’re all wearing clothes that are strange to him - not in the style of the Bionis or Mechonis at all - and sporting bright lights. He’s most struck by a lady who is very literally on fire, blue flames licking up and down her arms and hair.

That bit feels familiar, too, but he can’t exactly place why… 

“You’d think that,” Malos says, but there’s a new note in his voice. He’s trying to hide it, but it’s almost as though he respects Mio’s father. “You’ve always been naïve.” 

“And I appreciate you lookin’ out for me an’ mine,” Mio’s Dad says, “but I’m gonna need you to put the poor kid down now.” 

Malos grunts and mutters a Very Bad Word under his breath - the kind that would get any child in the orphanage in big trouble, though Noah supposes the rules are different for adults - but he does, at long last, lower Noah down until his feet are once again planted on the ground.

“This isn’t over,” Malos hisses under his breath, so that only Noah can actually hear him. “I’ll be watching you… N.” 

It’s an odd nickname - it’s not like ‘Noah’ is a mouthful - but Noah cannot bring himself to care, because he is finally, finally able to twine Mio’s fingers in his, and suddenly everything is right in the world. 

Noah had hoped Malos’ initial disdain for him was a one-off.

Sadly, that is not the case. 

The rest of Mio’s enormous family always greets him with warmth and cheer. There’s a lot of people to keep track of. There’s her dad, Rex, and all three of her mums, and her Uncle Zeke and Aunt Pandy, and her Aunts Mòrag and Brighid (the blue fire lady), and their daughter Sena, and Tora, and Poppi.

(Of course not all of them are blood related, but as Pyra tells him one day, their journey to save Alrest together had forged them into a family by choice. Noah, who’s been an orphan for as long as he can remember, thinks that is a beautiful sentiment). 

On top of that, Pyra and Mythra have two siblings: Malos, who Noah has met already, and a mysterious ‘Alvis’ who hails from Noah’s half of the world but is only rarely seen in public. Alvis had actually helped to defeat Zanza, but is never included in the list of heroes who’d fought at Shulk’s side.

When he asks Pyra about it, she just smiles and says Alvis prefers it that way. 

The two worlds suddenly becoming one had taken everyone by surprise, but just one week later, Noah’s school starts to teach classes about the other world. That’s how he learns all about Blades, and the life cycle of Titans, and the Aegis War.

It’s very strange to be taught about the destruction of Torna in school and then spend the evening with the same two people whose battle had sunk the Titan. Neither Mythra nor Malos seem like they’re capable of such complete destruction. The worst thing they ever do around Noah is accuse each other of cheating at cards and say a lot of bad words until Pyra glares at them and reminds them that ‘there are children present.’ 

(Pyra is the scariest one of all, if you ask Noah. She might not have sunk any Titans, but you really don’t want to cross her when she’s telling you to do something.) 

Malos had even died, apparently, but he’d ‘gotten better.’ So had the rest of Torna - the organization, not the Titan, which was confusing at first - and they all occasionally turn up at Mio’s house on holidays.

When this happens, Malos is inseparable from their old leader, Jin. He’ll follow the other Blade wherever he goes - always at his side, but never actually touching.

Noah likes Jin immediately - he’s just so cool, equally skilled with a sword and in the kitchen. The fact that his showing up is one of the only things that gets Malos to stop glaring at Noah definitely helps. 

Eventually, he plucks up his courage and asks for an introduction. 

Malos glares at him like usual, and scoffs, and says darkly, “Jin, this is Noah, Mio’s little boyfriend. Everyone else thinks he’s harmless - but I know better.” 

This hurts Noah’s feelings, but he already knows that Malos hates him for no apparent reason, so he doesn’t let it get him down. He’s practically vibrating with excitement as he asks Jin to teach him how to use a sword.  

Jin regards Noah very seriously, like he always does. The fact that Noah is barely eleven doesn’t stop Jin from treating him like anyone else. 

“Why?” Jin asks him. “This world is at peace. We are hardly in need of children to defend us.” 

“That’s what Sir Dunban said,” Noah explains. The day the great Hero had come to speak at their school is etched into his memory. “He also said fighting is always the last resort. But… but I want to be able to protect my friends. Mio has all of you, but Lanz and Eunie and Joran, we - we only have each other.”

Jin looks at him for a long time - Noah tries to hold still and not squirm under the scrutiny, but it’s very difficult. Eventually, Jin gives him a tiny nod. 

“You can’t be serious,” Malos objects immediately - and at volume. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said!?” 

“Yes,” Jin says. “That is precisely why I must instruct him.” 

“You know he’s a threat, and you’re gonna make him more of one!?” 

“Mio is hardly in physical danger. From what you’ve told me, the trouble will come from the boy’s volatile emotional state,” Jin explains, as though Noah is not right there and hanging on every word. “He must learn detachment. I will provide the tools.” 

Malos scowls and glares at Noah some more, but just like every time Jin decides on something, he gives in. “Fine! Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

It turns out that Jin was very serious about the ‘detachment’ part. Noah spends a lot of time learning to meditate and comparatively very little with the wooden training sword in his hands, but he never complains.

Malos attends every single session and watches Noah for every moment. He must be getting bored, Noah thinks. It’s not like he’s giving his sentinel much entertainment when he sits cross-legged with his eyes closed and focuses on breathing. 

When Noah is twelve years old, he and Mio start to attend the same school.

With Queen Nia’s abdication - Noah knows for a fact that she’d never wanted the job in the first place - Alcamoth has become the de facto capital of the combined world (now officially named Galea for reasons that make Malos smirk but refuse to elaborate). Empress Melia retains her position but the entire government is in constant flux as all of the old rulers of the Titans work to decide on the best model for their rejoined people. 

Noah doesn’t care much about the details. He’s just happy that he’ll get to spend more time with his person - and Sena and Taion, who get along so well with Lanz and Eunie that it’s like they’d always belonged there.

There’s a popular theory that - since everyone had originally come from one world - the Conduit experiment must have split their souls into two pieces too. As such, everyone from Alrest had a ‘soulmate’ among the people of the Bionis or Mechonis. 

Noah is a fan of the idea - it certainly explains the instant connection he’d felt with Mio. But Malos overhears the two of them discussing after band practice (he always does find an excuse to hang around and chaperone Mio’s extracurriculars) and gives a loud, derisive snort of laughter.

“That’s stupid,” he says. 

“Why?” Mio challenges him. “I think it’s nice.” 

“Because,” Malos says, “it’d mean everyone who lived and loved and died in our separate worlds was wasting their time. They weren’t. All that soulmate shit is one big insult to their memory.” 

Mio tilts her head, considering. “... Maybe you’re right. That sounds like something Da would say.” 

“Ugh,” Malos groans. “Don’t lump me in with him.” 

Noah also thinks there’s more to it. “Do you feel so strongly about it because Jin is your soulmate, and you’re both from Alrest?”

Malos scowls and tells him to shut up, but noticeably does not deny it.

Noah is fifteen, and he’s known for some time that his feelings for Mio go beyond a friendship, but still, he hesitates to actually act on them. He wants to do everything right - surely that starts by sweeping her off her feet with a grandiose gesture? 

He’s still overthinking his approach and trying to plan the perfect first date when she, as usual, cuts through all his extraneous nonsense. She asks him out during lunch and he practically trips over himself in his eagerness to accept. (Eunie laughs so hard that she almost chokes on her milk; Sena has to pound her back repeatedly until she can breathe again).

Taion turns to the new couple and asks, with a very serious expression: “Have you discussed this with Mio’s family?” 

Lanz scoffs. “They gotta know already, yeah? These two ain’t exactly subtle.” 

“Well, yes,” their friend acknowledges, fiddling with his glasses. “It’s not about informing them - nor asking for permission, which is some outdated nonsense in my opinion. But I can tell that both of you are very serious about this, and that means Mio’s family is going to be a very important part of your life, Noah.” 

“Oh c’mon,” Eunie wheezes - the fact that she’d almost perished by milk carton certainly isn’t going to stop her from giving her two cents. “You’re jumping, like… twelve steps ahead, ain’t ya?” 

“Actually,” Sena says, tilting her head to study the pair, “I think Taion has a point.” 

Taion usually does, Noah thinks, as he reflexively reaches for Mio’s hand underneath the cafeteria table.

He’s fairly comfortable with breaking the news to his girlfriend’s enormous family - but there is one glaring, black-clad exception, and while Noah has never been afraid of Malos, exactly, this will only make things worse between them. Malos thinks that Noah will hurt Mio and has said so, repeatedly and at volume. 

“We’ll speak to them together,” Mio says in a low voice. 

And they do. They break the news that very night.

They all react as Noah expected. Rex cheerfully notes that he was fifteen himself when he met Mio’s mums. Nia smirks and says that Noah is a lot more mature than Rex had been; Rex grins and doesn’t argue the point. Mythra rolls her eyes and mutters something about Rex having taken forever to actually do anything. Pyra smiles and promises that both of the teenagers will receive an important Talk (the capital letter is clear, and slightly ominous) at her hands as soon as she gets the chance. Zeke and Mòrag recall that they had both awakened their Blades and gained a lifelong companion by fifteen, too. The former claps Noah heartily on one shoulder with such force that he almost topples over; the latter contents herself with a firm handshake. 

And then there’s Malos, who seems to be testing the theory that looks could kill if he simply commits hard enough. 

“Okay, kids,” he says, as soon as there’s a lull in the conversation, “you’re dating. Congrats or whatever. Where are we going first?” 

“Um,” Noah says. “.. We?” 

“Yep,” Malos says. “Don’t you get it by now? I’m always watching.” 

The rest of Mio’s family mostly looks amused. Notably, nobody steps in to overrule this proclamation. 

And that’s how Mio’s Uncle spends the next three years chaperoning the pair’s dates, to the dismay of everyone involved - especially Malos himself. 

One afternoon, when Noah is almost eighteen, he takes Malos aside and asks him for his help. 

Their school band has entered into a competition, and will be playing against other schools from all over Galea.  The site of the first round is a great distance from Alcamoth - in a town where the former Colony 9 and sections of Gormott have fused together. But because so many of the musicians - including Noah himself - are still underage, they’re in need of adult chaperones for the trip. 

As Noah finishes his fumbling explanation, Malos stares at him for a long time, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Finally, Mio’s uncle says: “And you’re asking… me?”

“Yes.” 

“You want me to come with you.”

“I do.” 

“You could’ve asked literally anyone. There’s no shortage of people who’d wanna watch out for my niece. Hell - you could’ve used this as a chance to get away from me for once.”

“I suppose,” Noah says, smiling slightly, “but you’re the one who’s always there listening when we practice. I thought you’d appreciate the music.” 

Malos scowls at him. “That’s not - you’re not - I’m sure you play that flute good, brat, but I’m not there ‘cause I like music. I’m there-” 

“-to keep an eye on me. To make sure I don’t hurt Mio. I know - you’ve told me dozens of times,” Noah says patiently.

“I guess I’ve got to keep saying it, since you clearly don’t get it.” 

“It did confuse me for a long time,” Noah admits. “Your words and your behavior didn’t seem to match up. But then I thought about Eunie-” 

“That big metal lunk?” 

“No, she’s Entian.”

“Oh yeah,” Malos says. “The loud one with the feathers. Hey, wait - you trying to insult me!?” 

“Not at all,” Noah smiles. “She can be… brash, and when you first meet her, you might take what she says at face value. But the way she talks is just to protect herself. Whenever you need something - anything - she’s the first to drop everything and help you. She cares so much - she doesn’t say it, but her actions speak louder.” 

Malos’ features twist into a variety of exaggerated expressions as he takes this in.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles. 

“You say you hate me. You say you’re only hanging around to make sure I won’t hurt Mio. But… of everyone in her family, you’re the one I can rely on the most. You’re the one who’s always there for me.” 

Malos makes an exaggerated retching noise. “Okay, just - just stop talking. I’ll go on your stupid trip. But don’t think - this doesn’t change anything, get it? The second you do anything Mio doesn’t like-” 

“I know,” Noah says softly. “I’ll do my best to make sure that never happens, but… if it does… I’ll deserve whatever you do to me.” 

“... Yeah. Good. We’re on the same page, then.” 

 This time, when Malos stalks away from him, the threatening aura he works so hard to project around him… feels rather diminished.

Chapter Text

Logos’ restored core crystal contains terabytes of data from the old world - the one that Klaus had destroyed forever. Even when its broken halves folded back together once more, the new planet was not Earth; it was forever changed into something new. Those who remembered - Alvis, his sisters, Malos himself - had advised against adopting the ancient name. Working by consensus - three parts of a whole, as they’d been once upon a time  - they had quickly landed upon the name of their ‘mother’, who deserved better than to be forgotten. 

… all of which is to say that he immediately thinks of a proverb of old Earth. In the wise words of one of her great philosophers: “congratulations, Malos, you played yourself.” 

He should have remembered that people were most afraid of what they didn’t understand. After eight years of following that Noah brat around, the kid was no longer even a little intimidated by him. Malos had just become a part of his life - the rude, blustering, but soft-hearted uncle whose actions spoke louder than his words, apparently!

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to him. And yes, he’s including his own immolation at Mythra’s hands. 

Malos does what he usually does when something has gone wrong.

He confronts his newest quote-unquote sibling, Alvis. 

Alvis acts all secretive, but can reliably be found in one of two locations: hanging around Shulk wearing a revolting lovestruck expression… or brooding mysteriously atop some new geographic feature that rose when the worlds combined. It’s the latter today, which suits Malos just fine. He doesn’t dislike Shulk as a person - well, no more than anyone else - but watching the way Alvis, Mythra, and Pyra behave around their Drivers always makes him uncomfortable.

After he’d lost - after he’d died - they’d gone ahead and fixed the whole system, supposedly. Blades could live without a Driver, beyond the death of their Driver, and kept their memories. It was everything Torna had been fighting for. And yet, so many Blades did not really know how to exist without a Driver. Many Blades, even the most powerful Blades of all, were still completely enamored and obsessed with their Driver.

And of course, Malos was no exception. 

At least he’d chosen Jin. 

But back on Aionis, full of dormant power and needing someone to wield the Logos core and help him destroy that rotten world Z had made… He’d also chosen Noah. And look how that had turned out for him. 

It doesn’t cause him to doubt Jin, who had proven his worth over the course of five hundred years and endured so much worse than Noah without blinking. 

It does cause Malos to doubt himself. 

“You seem troubled,” Alvis says, after what must have been a long several minutes of Malos just staring without saying anything. 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Oh? What have I done this time?” Alvis’ expression remains grave, eyes clear and lips immobile, but cannot help the amusement leaking into the words. 

“This stupid world of yours,” Malos says, gesturing one arm in a wide arc. 

Alvis sighs. “I have told you over and over that it is not mine. Galea was formed from the wills of the people of the Bionis, Alrest, and even Aionis-” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were just the conduit of their desires. I heard you the first dozen times; I still think nobody can be trusted in that role.” 

“I agree. Which is why you have the power to destroy me utterly,” Alvis says patiently, “and I begged you to do so at the first sign that I might be slipping. Is that why you are here, Malos?” 

No hesitation. The same pleasant, steady tone of voice that Alvis always uses. 

“... No. It’s not,” Malos admits. “This is still the world they all wished for. I’m just - annoyed. The way nobody remembers anything about Aionis-” 

“-Not nobody,” Alvis interrupts him. “Everyone has the power to recall as much of their lives there as they wish. Blades, in particular, see forgetting as a greater evil than their trauma, and the mechanics of this world respect that. I can share the latest data with you.”

“It’s not about the data. It’s about one annoying little brat,” Malos says.

“Ah,” Alvis says.

“Don’t Ah me.” 

“It is about the boy, Noah.” 

“No shit,” Malos says.  

“He does not remember N,” Alvis says. “And he will never choose to remember.” 

“That your Foresight talking?”

“No. Call it my understanding of human nature… Does his decision to live in ignorance bother you, Malos?”

“Course it does! How is he - how are any of us - supposed to avoid the same mistakes if we can’t even remember making them!?” 

Alvis smiles. “Shulk would say: by relying on our friends.” 

“I didn’t ask Shulk,” Malos grumbles. 

“Remember the role that I played on Aionis: that of an observer. In my opinion, the main difference between N and Noah was not how they reacted to the potential loss of Mio - poorly, in both cases, it must be said - but in their behavior towards the people around them. N pushed everyone else away; Noah relied upon them, and listened to them when they told him he had strayed.” 

As Alvis speaks, power wells up into a memory. Malos watches Brighid’s daughter plant hands on hips and ask: “Do you think you’re perfect, Noah?” 

“Nice speech,” Malos says, scowling at Sena’s image until it fades away. “You’re still naïve. We’re not talking about one dumb fight. He slaughtered their family and trapped her in hell for a thousand years.” 

Alvis shakes his head. “All factors that this Noah will have considered. But there is little sense in inflicting trauma upon yourself when you know that the actual conditions of your ultimate triumph - your friends - are already in your life.”

“Those other brats? None of them remember, either. They won’t know the warning signs.” 

Alvis smiles. “Are you sure about that?”

“Huh? Course I am. None of ‘em are acting any different.” 

“That’s true,” Alvis says pleasantly, which makes Malos immediately suspicious. What exactly is he missing here?

“So you admit I have a point!” 

“Not quite. There is someone in Noah’s life who recalls his worst self in perfect detail. Someone who Noah has recently told that he can rely on. Whose opinion he will always respect-”

“Oh no,” Malos says hastily. “You’re not putting that on me.” 

“I do not intend to ‘put’ anything on you,” Alvis says, “but have you not stepped into that role of your own volition?” 

“I was just keeping an eye on the budding psychopath,” Malos grumbles, “seeing as nobody else seemed to care.”

“Perhaps they simply trusted you to perform your self-appointed duty,” Alvis suggests, with another enigmatic smile. “Perhaps they realized that Noah would come to care for you, no matter how gruffly you acted towards him. Perhaps they foresaw that Noah would listen to you if he ever begins to stumble.”   

Malos sighs. “Sometimes, I really hate you guys.”  

“I have been told this is normal for sibling relationships.” 

Malos grunts, but lets this pass without any comment. He doesn’t feel like arguing any longer. As usual, Alvis has drawn the fight out of him - guiding him down a path towards acceptance with a few pointed phrases, deployed at the opportune times.

Ontos carefully managing the volatile Logos and unruly Pneuma, like always. 

… though on the other hand, it’s not really like that at all. Ontos would never have laughed, or smiled, or cared so deeply for the memories of friends that an entire separate personality split from the Ontos core… 

(Upon meeting his long-lost sibling, Malos had immediately noticed that Alvis’ hair was much longer than Ontos’ virtual avatar had once preferred. He’d soon realized that it was a loving tribute to the time spent as ‘A’). 

“If you have come to regret assuming such a prominent role in his life,” Alvis says, breaking into Malos’ silence, “you ought to pull back now. Your loss will hurt Noah’s feelings. Better to ‘rip the bandage off’, as they say.” 

Malos clicks his tongue, disgusted - at Alvis or himself, he can’t quite say. “Yeah, well, it’s too late now. Should’ve told me that about eight years ago.”

“Would you have listened?”

“No, but fuck you anyway.” 

Alvis laughs at that - not softly, either, but an ungainly snort through unusually elegant nostrils. 

“I’m not his Blade,” Malos says firmly. “I’ll never trust him with Logos’ power ever again.” Besides, there’s only ever been one Driver for me, he thinks, but does not add aloud. 

“That is your right,” Alvis says with a nod. “But you don’t need to be his Blade to be important to him. He cares about you because you are Mio’s uncle; it is as simple as that.”

“I should’ve nipped this sibling shit in the bud. What was wrong with ‘partner’? Nice and businesslike.” 

“And insufficient. I care about you as the person you have become, not merely as my operating counterpart Logos.” 

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Malos grumbles. His face feels hot with the visual expression of his embarrassment. “I’ve had all the sappiness I can handle for the week already.” 

“Very well,” Alvis says, still smiling. “May Shulk and I still expect you and Jin for dinner this evening?”

Always an interminable affair. Shulk can barely taste anything, while Alvis cooks like the machine they all were, never deviating from the instructions. Jin is too polite to ever say anything… but Malos can always tell he is silently mourning the lost potential in each dish, mentally correcting for spice and salt with the intention of fixing it later on. 

It’s adorable. 

“Yeah,” Malos says, smiling. “Wouldn’t miss it.”