For a second, from where he sits on the couch, it's so easy for Gil to see the teenage kid in Malcolm's tense posture, the youth of his face. There's something heartbreaking in it. Gil hauls himself to his feet and joins Malcolm in the kitchen space, putting an arm around him and rubbing Malcolm's shoulder a little. Impulsively, he plants a kiss on the kid's temple the way he used to when he knew he could get away with it without embarrassing Malcolm.

"Sounds good." There's something turning his stomach, a thought he's chewing over that hasn't quite made itself clear. Something that's making him feel a little ill with sadness and guilt and hot with shame. He gives Malcolm's shoulder another squeeze.