He doesn't have it in him to put on his brave front. He's fresh out of bravery today, running on an empty gas tank in terms of his tolerance for Mathias's cruelty and just losing that willingness to get up again after getting knocked down over and over again by these mounting setbacks. Doc hasn't even stopped to eat anything today although it's so far from his mind at this particular moment. He's too worn down to stand and be attentive to Malcolm's needs.

"Yes," he eventually says, a small, lone voice in the unending darkness.

"What's wrong? Are we flooded?" Something must be wrong for Malcolm to have come in. Something for Doc to fix. Yes, he is sitting in water, so he is aware that the water level outside has risen enough to spill over the lip of the garage floor and started to seep in. But it is just his unofficially designated room here, and the stockpile of food is on the shelf unit a few inches up from the floor. He has managed to put some old towels around the second fridge, although he's not sure what good that will do if the water level continues to rise. If they have water in the living room or dripping down from the ceiling somewhere like some kind of horror movie though, that's a problem he is more willing to try and muster up the energy to stand up and try to fix somehow.

He hasn't had the pleasure of dealing with that many floods. But for Malcolm, for this house, he is willing to try.