It's not just Malcolm, Tim reminds himself. Just a curious peek at the ADI forums was enough to key someone in on the impact that Mr. Milton had had on this odd community of theirs. There's the distracting urge to want to feel guilt over never using the time Tim had to meet the man, but that's just not possible. To involve himself with and make good friends out of every poor unfortunate soul that lands drafted into service.

He hums, is glad for training where he can balance food trays and not drop them at the first step. Because an untrained Tim? An untrained Tim would've struggled.

"Yeah, I was. I," he fights against clearing his throat because he is carrying food he needs to be sanitary but there's a pause where he gathers his strength regardless. "I don't think Nia loves me much. I talked Sheriff Porter into joining the investigation. I... went to track down a den of White Things instead of, uh, going fishing. Is that what you were up to?"