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"Will Graham here. Leave a message."

[Open for text/audio/action/whatever.]

Malcolm looks up at Will. He's mad. ...He's not mad at Malcolm. At least, Malcolm is pretty sure of that.

He's distracted for a moment when Ulla offers to come over and clean up his mess. She's always welcome, of course. He smiles and nods his consent. If it's okay with Will. He looks at Will again.

"Are you going to bite him?" he asks carefully.

Ulla asks and he rubs at his face. Malcolm's okay with it, and so Will nods, too. "That would be great, Ulla. Thanks."

But Malcolm must've noticed his stiffness- or more importantly, why he's holding himself so stiffly. He can practically feel the leash he's holding himself on. He doesn't react to the question for a moment, other than closing his eyes.

"No," he says, deep regret in his voice. "I'm not going to bite him, and I'm not going to stab him. I'm going to call Norton, and I'll...get some details." He knows Norton well enough that the man will understand where he's coming from.

Ulla rests her head against Will's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic squeeze. "Taylor might need to assure herself I'm really in one piece, too. She probably already knows, but is not happy either."

Ulla reaches into her bag, pulling a shrimp from a container of water there and setting it on her shoulder. She murmurs, "I'm alright, sweetheart. Barely hurt and already healed, I promise."

He's still watching Will. Still concerned.

"...You don't have to... not do... anything. I don't... want you to be someone else. I just don't want you to get demoted, either."

Will hasn't seen how Taylor can be, but he can certainly guess how she feels. Her abilities would mean she has to hold back pretty heavily, too. He nods at Ulla's reassuring words, even if they're not for him.

He then looks towards Malcolm, rather like a guilty puppy that got caught chewing up a shoe. It's partially how he's feeling and partially a defense mechanism- better this than going dead silent and angry. "It's not exactly something I can 'dial down', Malcolm," he says with a sad smile. "Better to just...be a good upstanding warden while I'm on board."

Malcolm watches him with half-focused eyes, but not for lack of trying.

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then finally settles on "When can we go home?"

"Anytime," Ulla tells Malcolm, giving Will one more squeeze before she lets him go. "But let Will help you, I don't think you've fully recovered from the blood loss yet. You should eat and drink once we're there. Will can get that while I clean up."

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