That was... actually a bit of a relief in some ways. He thought Malcolm was... wantable. He still wanted friendship. He hadn't bolted from the house.

Malcolm huffed a breath of a gentle laugh.

"It's okay," he murmured. He squeezed his hand and then lifted his head, pressing one chaste kiss to Neal's forehead. "What have I been saying all evening?" he pointed out, not moving away from him. "You have to decide what you want." He gave his hand one more squeeze. "I respect that. And I appreciate your honesty," he assured him, holding his gaze if he'd let him.