Malcolm huffed a laugh at the remark, but he glanced over at the question, momentarily confused before he remembered what they'd even come here for.

"...Belts? ...Oh! Um, no. Anything is better than what I have now, as long as it'll hold my weight and I can punch more holes in it."

He draped a pair of sweatpants over his arm and glanced over a couple of shelves, noticing a plastic package of five sleeveless undershirts. He picked it up and held it out.

"Aren't these what you... wear?" he asked. He knew they were. He'd spent enough time staring at Raylan's shoulder blades moving under them.