Malcolm glances at the stairs. He hasn’t been up there yet, but it sounds like everyone is fine. Except maybe Raylan; Malcolm doesn’t see his boots. But Doc definitely isn’t fine, so he’ll put that concern away for later as he follows Doc to the garage with his crate. He tries to keep his charmed smile at the retrieval of the snowglobe behind Doc’s back. The gunslinger hadn’t let himself take it in the first place and had moved it from the mantel to his bedroom when nobody was around. It wouldn’t do, apparently, to draw attention to him finding a crumb of enjoyment in something frivolous.

“The main floor is already flooding. If we don’t intend to take a fridge upstairs, we can probably just... not worry about the refrigerated goods. Save the non-perishables and see what’s left in the morning of everything else.”