"Mal?" Now he's frowning because that face? that is not a good face. He's learned the ticks and tells of Malcolm well enough by now to know that good thoughts never follow that face. "Are you-"

Cheek smooch. It's. Juvenile and sweet and so, so damn brave considering how rare it is for Mal as himself to reach out first. York goes still, smoke curling around their shoulders before he turns his head enough to return the gesture, lips light against Malcolm's cheek.