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“Not… superhuman. Just your run of the mill gleeful predatory psychopath. Dangerous, though. I don’t actually visit him in the visitation room most of the time. He lives in a cell where he’s tethered to the wall at all times and cuffed when a visitor is entering and you’re warned not to cross the line on the floor because it would put you within the length of his tether,” Malcolm tells him. “Even so, a professional assassin tried to strangle him in his cell a couple years ago and… well. He should have kept his butt on the right side of the red line.”

It seems like an outright smile on his face, and Walter isn't sure if it's a nervous smile? Or a got-what-he-deserved smile? Or a story where he at least has the comfort of knowing how it ends? "Let me guess, the strangler became the tether-ligature-stranglee?"

Walter really doesn't think it's too wild to be waiting for Malcolm to say of his own accord "it was special", "it was nice", anything. But maybe he doesn't think things could have been different. Maybe it could have been decided all that time ago in the past, when the crimes of their forefathers were already committed.

He holds up the basically empty cup of hot cocoa. "You know, I don't think I was really prepared to savor this one, but my medicine has kicked in now. If there's another round to be had, can the next one have marshmallows?"

It was terrifying to witness, but so much murder has gone under the bridge since then. It's just matter of fact, now. A thing that happened once.

"He didn't strangle him," Malcolm says, taking Walter's cup and standing up. "We were trying to get in in time to save him... me and two homicide detectives I worked with. But while JD was looking for a guard with a key to open his cell door, I was watching through the window. He saw me and bashed the guy's head into the wall, threw him on the floor and gouged out his eyes with his thumbs while grinning at me." He puts a saucepan on the stove and gets the milk from the fridge.

"Not to be confused with John Doe, I take it," Walter throws in, because hey, if he's given up on getting emotional validation out of this, maybe his restrained state can be useful for gathering info instead. "That's haunting, dude, what do you think it means? I'm watching you? Or maybe... Justice is blind?"

“No. The guy murdered my girlfriend. For money. My dad was pleased with himself because he thought he was helping me,” Malcolm explains. He looks over. “What do you mean ‘John Doe’? What about him?”

"You know, I just wondered if it was the same guy for a second. Maybe he's got a magical lifespan and you met him in the future after whenever Arthur's from." Walter no longer thinks asking this was inconspicuous. Time to go for Concern. He sits up a bit to get a better view into the kitchen. "Your girlfriend? That's terrible. Yet another reason it's good he was out of your life before you got too much older. Most of the time."

“Out of my life? I visited him twice a week until I applied to Quantico. Are you asking if the assassin was John Doe?” Malcolm asks.

...Whitby is a scumbag, he's a scumbag, he's a scumbag, Walter is not jealous, he's a scumbag...

"No, J.D. Your coworker?"

If it’s any consolation, every adult in his life regrets allowing it.

“Oh. Yeah. You know what?” He stirs actual chocolate into the warming milk. “I never could get him to tell me what it stood for. Do you like full sized marshmallows crammed in there or a bunch of the little ones?” Malcolm asks.

Huh, a mystery even Malcolm didn't solve. Maybe he really isn't a file reader. "Little ones but I absolutely love your creative vision," Walter says automatically. "You know what would be really epic is chocolate stuffed big marshmallow."

"S'more hot chocolate?" Malcolm ventures. "When I make it for Willa, I put a few pumps of hazelnut coffee syrup in there and then it tastes like Nutella," he tells Walter.

He pours the hot chocolate into the mug and gets a bag of mini marshmallows from the cupboard, throwing a generous handful in, then brings it back over to him.

"My sister likes it with mint," he adds. "She says it tastes like an After Eight."

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