Malcolm looks at the salad, then looks at Neal, then takes a careful bite. Chews, swallows, smiles.

“That is good,” he agrees happily. He sets his fork down. New food. He has to give it a minute. See how it sits. Instead, he watches Neal for a moment, then his expression falters and he glances around. Is he being weird? He picks up his fork again, though he’s not sure what to do with it. Should he just eat? The fork hovers over the salad uncertainly.