It must be the shades of his partner showing. Echoes and ghosts. He's almost (almost) envious, but Malcolm huffs out something of a laugh and acquiesces, returning to a starting point.

He'll start this time. Slow to start, balancing equations, figures in his head, before he moves in, aiming for a series of quick strikes midsection, trying to push York back and wear him down. It's almost like he can see what's coming to block before it happens, but that's just what he'd do in his head if their positions were reversed, obviously. York's learned well.