Malcolm Bright

"I wonder how long he's realized he had these... interests," Malcolm remarked idly. "I wonder how long it took him to give into those urges; whether it started with an accident or a coincidence that pushed him to escalate or if his violent appetites sent him pursuing them aggressively on his own. Because usu..."

The door buzzed.

"Oh." The food. "One second." He headed out the door and down the stairs, paying for the food and bringing it back up and making a space among the files.

"Steak, baked potato, steamed broccoli," Malcolm told him, setting the container in front of Raylan. He turned and opened a drawer, picking up a set of cutlery, wrapped in a linen napkin, held together with a brass napkin ring and held it out to Raylan.