York leads, but Malcolm is right there with him, in time. York avoids collisions by being aware, and part from Malcolm inching them one way or another. Here they are. There is a moment where it is them, enjoying the music and each other and them, only them, close heat and synchronous rhythm. They haven't quite reached that point in sparring, though they're getting there. Here is different. Here they move together as two halves of a whole.

It's enough to feel Taylor's pulse, in time with his own, and that alone is...different. Not wrong. He can't say wrong, but it's different, and he's becoming aware of this. He has the good sense enough to wait until the familiar beat dies down for a different one to wind up before he pulls himself away and says nothing, just makes a straight line for the bar.