Raylan could only blink at Malcolm. "Well shit. Guess you won the Crap Dad award. 23? Sounds like an overachiever if you ask me," he joked without much humor. 23 people was more than serious. More than passion, more than anger. It was pleasure and joy. A different level.
"I'm guessing that New York had a field day with that. Had to be rough on a young kid." He was almost afraid to ask what Malcolm's father did to cause the screaming upstairs, which Raylan naturally assumed was the source, but it was 1:30, they were up and he knew he'd get around to it, but he couldn't help but give Malcolm the room to talk and fill in what he would on his own, much like he would a suspect he was sympathizing with.
He wasn't just sympathizing here. It happened in a snap but Arlo's indiscretions suddenly seemed like minor church sins in comparison. It was an odd feeling.
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"I'm guessing that New York had a field day with that. Had to be rough on a young kid." He was almost afraid to ask what Malcolm's father did to cause the screaming upstairs, which Raylan naturally assumed was the source, but it was 1:30, they were up and he knew he'd get around to it, but he couldn't help but give Malcolm the room to talk and fill in what he would on his own, much like he would a suspect he was sympathizing with.
He wasn't just sympathizing here. It happened in a snap but Arlo's indiscretions suddenly seemed like minor church sins in comparison. It was an odd feeling.