Malcolm Bright

"You said it, not me," he mutters. But the olive branch is recognized and Tim can find it in him to smirk, if only for a second before his expression smooths back into nothingness.

He's made mistakes here. Noted. The worst part being that he always knew how to avoid them but, well, it's... nice. That Malcolm's concerned.

Tim's hand grips the handle of his mug, "I think the tea did help."

It's time for a retreat.

Tim makes to stand. "Thanks," he tries again. Awkwardly, boyishly. Genuinely. Go out on a high note and hide your head in the sand elsewhere. "I'll be in my room."