Malcoda stayed in the doorway and stretched his front legs forward, yawning and snapping his jaws. Licking his jowls of the dried blood he watch Ziv inspect the room and sneer at everything. Most of it was flammable except for the brickwork and the walls, floor and ceiling. He hadn't the time or the inclination to buy different furniture so he'd just gone to IKEA to pick up enough to fill each room with the basics in case the pack he was building needed a den. It wasn't likely given that they had their own place next door, but it was an option.
It looked like Ziv was going to stick around for awhile as she wanted his head on a pike. If she was going to play topside, she'd do well to play by the rules. Twitching his ears to listen out for any unwanted noise around the house, Mal finally switched to English, his voice deeper and tongue flowing around the words as smoothly as they did in Hellenic. "Shift. Your wounds will stop bleeding as badly if you do. I'll grab some extra clothes for you and contact a healer. You can fly again by evening." He paused and waited for her argument, that she didn't need some human healer. Malcoda didn't show weakness, but even he knew that bleeding out in his fireplace was foolish when there was a way to make it stop.