"Of course," Neal whispers, stomach knotting with a blend of anxieties he doesn't have the fortitude to pick apart at the moment. He hovers for a moment, mentally switching tracks between which chair to get and why, before he finally settles on one of the bar stools at the island and shifts it into Malcolm's space. "Is this okay? Do you want the couch, or--oh, you meant in the shower."

Well now he feels stupid and guilty.