Malcolm Bright

Malcolm glanced over. The hand on his shoulder did ground him and dial back the manic that was just bubbling up. He followed Raylan with his gaze to the tux jacket and tie draped over his stairs as the other man picked them up.

He was unexpectedly a little sad that Raylan wasn't going to take anything with him, but he did seem like the sort of man to travel light.

"It's custom," he said. No returns. "I'll mail it."