He laughs until he has to leave or get his ass hauled along to the next stop in the autocab, the warning beep the only thing to spur him into motion. And he's still laughing. Giggling helpless little hitches in the pit of his stomach, warbling things that have the attending at the door herding people looking at him oddly while he limps his way back over to Malcolm. It'll come to that.

For all that he's the optimisit he knows his luck. knows their luck. It'll come to that and he'll have to hug Mal close, murmur something pointless and comforting and pull the fucking trigger and-

He.

Needs to call Doctor Ramirez if this is what he's going to do at this fucking suggestion. Jesus. Maybe the mug hit him harder than he thought. "I'm f-fine." He waves off the nearest whoever, trying to find Mal. "Really. Fine. Peachy keen."