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.

He had invited to stay at his house, as it seemed she needed some place to stay, certainly when she didn't have any one to make sure she was actually safe. He would have let her brother do that. If her brother wasn't…well, a mess. Not that he wasn't…not a mess. But he was definitely capable of defending her "I do. But against my inner voice. This is the situation."

Laughing lightly, for a split moment he looked away soaking in all that she was saying "Oh! Thanks- You really didn't have to." Holding up his hands, before it was shoved into his chest. Holding it there he eyes the woman, wanting to know what she was doing out all the time, and why he wasn't following her. It was making this all entirely seem pointless.