He smirked a bit, "Whose worrying?" his eyes focused hard on his glass as he played with it now in his right hand. He was very laid back now, partially because of the alcohol, partially because he was becoming comfortable with her.
"It has nothing to do with anything," he shrugged once again, amused now by her own touch of sarcasm to the conversation, "Just saying. Might as well be happy. Life's a bitch, then you die." A phrase his dad always said to him back when he was alive. Malcolm's eye shifted back to Jillian, who was seemly trying to focus on her bad food. She was very pretty and she was sure to be the type of girl who knew it, so he wouldn't feed her with words to make her more full of herself. He wouldn't be intimidated.
So he challenged her, "But now tell me something that has to do with anything."