Malia Milkovich {-Ian Gallagher-}

Season 4, Episode 9

Malia smokes a cigarette as she waits for Ian outside of Fairytail.

Ian arrives in a cab, "Hey, where the hell have you been?"

"Jesus." Ian sighs.

"I went to your house, you weren't there." Malia says as Ian walks towards the entrance.

"My shift's starting." Ian says, ignoring her question.

"Look, you got any money on you?" Malia asks.

Ian furrows his brows, "Few bucks. Why?"

"I need more than that." Malia bats her lashes in worry.

"What for?" Ian asks.

Malia puts her hands on her hips, "My dick of a husband thinks I owe him something. Like I'm the only one he's ever dropped a fucking load in."

"Hello." A man calls from behind the two, "Ride around the block?"

Malia scoffs, "We look like a couple hookers for sale to you?"

"Yes." The man replies.

Malia scoffs again, "Well, this ain't Macy's, bitch. You ain't window-shopping."

"You're in Boystown, outside a bar called The Fairytail." The man notes, making Malia more mad and Ian laugh.

"Why don't you fuck off before I give you a broken spine to go along with that limp wrist?" Malia yells as she grabs a nearby champagne bottle making the man drive away, "Yeah, get going, you fucking fruit!"

Ian laughs at Malia's outburst as she scoffs at what just happened.

"Thinks he can buy whatever he wants 'cause he's got a fucking Rolex and an S-Class." Malia shakes her head, "That shit happen to you a lot?"

"Every night." Ian shrugs.

"From rich dudes?" Malia asks.

Ian ignores her question, "Gotta get to work."

"Hey, hold on." Malia stops him. "Tell your boss you're going home sick tonight."

"Sick?" Ian asks.

Malia shrugs, "Yeah, whatever. Tell him you got AIDS."

~*~

Malia hides in the closet of the hotel room she and Ian had rented. Waiting for the perfect moment, Malia has her phone at the ready.

The man Ian lured flips them over so Ian's underneath him, Malia jumps out.

"Say cheese, motherfucker!" She yells as she takes a couple pictures.

"What the hell?" The man mutters.

Malia punches him square on his jaw, making him groan in pain.

She takes his watch from the nightstand and smiles, "That's Bulgari. That's, like, 200 bucks cash. Nice watch, man."

"What's going on?" The man asks, confused. "I'm calling the fucking police."