"...do you need air? I could use some air. Lets get some air." The hemmed up tension in Malcolm's frame is a little familiar to York. He's not sure right now if it's Mal or the thing in his veins making him tense but- outside is better than inside. Besides.

You can't smoke inside.

He pushes himself out of the chair, one hand steady on Malcolm's shoulder. "We got awhile before they get to us anyway."