God, Malcolm yearned for Raylan to put his arm around him like he had the night before. He could still feel the warm radius of that thumb rubbing comfort on his back. But the hand over his hand wasn't a rejection. He scooted a little closer.

"He's a good guy. He just gets carried away. I'm reasonably sure he has anxiety and this place is... just a bunch of walls."

He swallowed and looked up at his face again from under his brow.

"Raylan... I... " He paused and took a breath. "Is the closed door still a thing?"