There was one, in Raylan's opinion but Malcolm was allowed his own choices. He could question it later if he felt like it. He didn't miss the shift closer to him or the unsubtle sink of Malcolm back into his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his shoulders again.

"About doin' you a favor? Maybe. But I've also shot my daddy once or twice. Without duress. Might not be the best one to be askin' about it." He took a deep breath. "It's gonna be fine."

Arlo was to stubborn to die, until the ripe old age he got too; was Martin the same way? The fight of a heart did a lot in times like these and he didn't know what kind of fighting spirit the fine pressed Martin Whitly had.

"But he's not dead yet. My advice, don't put him in a box til he's ready to be there." He rubbed Malcolm's shoulder back and forth. "Where's Ainsley in all this?"