Raylan wondered if Neal knew about Malcolm's wolfdom. He had to, surely. It all made sense, how Neal laid it out - Raylan read people differently, very in the moment and sharper on shadier shit. Shit he easily recognized. Malcolm's emotions were already showing how out of wack they were when he got worked up - how well was he going to be able to handle them going forwards?

His lips pull toward a smile at it all anyway.

"That's a good way of puttin' it. He's luck to have someone who understands his gears so well." He would always be a little jealous of people who found people like that, who found that kind of connection and understanding.

"A couple people see a couple bruises. Mags. You?" His smile spread a little more but it didn't really reach the rest of his face. He couldn't sit still enough to see what answer would settle in Neal's face.

"Come sit on the porch with me," he says, shifting to tug on Neal's waist a little before grabbing the bottles of wine in his fingers and ambling that way.