Malcolm Bright

Walter gives a crooked smile and glances sideways to the open area of the room. "You have a funny way of showing that you care, don't you?"

The knife nudges in Malcolm's grip for a moment, as if this would be as difficult as pulling Malcolm's entire body by the wrist. Then it slams forward, professional baseball pitch speed, and stabs straight into the floor.

Whether it's held during all this is, strictly speaking, up to Malcolm.