Malcolm Bright

“Like… a really romantic and yet sometimes horrifying jigsaw puzzle,” Malcolm muses with a grin. “I’ve never felt better. Like. In my life,” he realizes. Not that he remembers what he felt like Before. He doesn’t even count that time, before he ate from the tree of knowledge of what his father was by opening a travel trunk in the basement of their home. “I really never have.” He pauses, his brow creasing faintly. He looks up at Will again. “I really did want to do it, though. I have to figure out how to let that go.”