When Malcolm woke, it was difficult to figure out where he was. It was dark and so cold, and ...sharp? Something was digging into his back. As awareness filtered through his body, he realised he was closed in somewhere.
A strangled cry and a few frantic kicks later, the lid of his chest freezer popped open and Malcolm realised he was at home. On his meat.
He rolled to the side, falling to the floor with a groan, and there he lay for ages, shuddering with cold. He he felt like he could stand, hw worked his way to his feet and stumbled through his apartment towards his kitchen. He needed three things in quick succession. A drink of water, a sleep in his warm bed, and then to order in and eat just...so much.
After that he could deal with the shitheads who killed him.
One glass of water down, Malcolm stumbled into his bedroom, only to find someone in his bed. He made his way over to it, staring down at the form under the blankets. He didn't realise his shin hit the bed, disturbing the sleeper.