#harraesstuff

Malcolm was still reeling, he had the most interesting last few weeks. Chopping a mans hands off. Having to reconsider his current job prospects. Oh, and his mother was certainly not pleased about it all, either. Though he had long learned to tune most of her dramatics out, usually. Probably not so much now. There was more, going on than he would care to say. This string of events woke something he had thought was gone, had been heavily medicated to keep away. But now, it was pressing back into his mind. The girl in the box. His father. Everything. Everything seemed to be muted, but also on fast forward. Until he found himself sat in front of Gil "Uh...Right! Okay. I won't chop off any hands." He offered a grin, lying, well, he hoped he wasn't. Maybe.