Told me what, Neal almost says, but he spots the way Malcolm’s face changes in time. Instead he turns to dish up a little bit of the soup. Tiny sampling for Malcolm to try, more substantial bowl for Tim. He carries them to the table and sets them in front of their respective targets, then turns to put an arm loosely around Malcolm’s shoulders and lean in to kiss his temple.

“Good idea.” He looks up at Tim, giving the much younger man a studying look. No judgment. Thoughtfulness. “You’re welcome to stay now, or come back whenever you’re ready.”

Neal gives Malcolm’s shoulder a preemptive little comforting squeeze.