He hummed a rough note into the kiss as Malcolm's hands spread over his shoulders, his own moving across and around Malcolm's ribs as he sat up, only to settle briefly on his hips. His fingers had started to tug Malcolm's belt loose when the smaller man paused and fingered a familiar dent in his chest.

He bent his head to look down before letting it fall back. "Yeah. About a year, year and a half old now. Got unlucky.." Malcolm was sharp and well versed enough to deduce what Raylan might have suffered for it, so Raylan didn't bother elaborating. Pity and sympathy wasn't something he was used to, and that wouldn't ever change.