Malcolm really hadn't had sex on his mind- it hadn't even been considered as a possibility beyond quickly dismissing it as completely unhelpful. Sadly, this wasn't something they could just shag out of their systems, it wasn't that kind of pain or anger.
"Uh, I don't fucking know, I wasn't, clearly. I just meant- do you not want to talk about it right now, okay?" he told her- although the words were a little blunt, his tone wasn't. It was far too patient, by his standards.
"Yeah, I know," he agreed, with a sad sort of nod. "I know. I didn't realise ghost stalking was such a fucking touchy topic," he grumbled. Of all the shit he'd stirred on the network, why was it the one time they were actually fucking justified that everything had gone to shit. And he hated that it was directed toward Grey, at least he was used to being universally despised. "I know. I know we don't," he told her softly. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't everyone, he wanted to tell her that it was just their opinion, he wanted to tell her that it would all blow over- but he didn't. Because he didn't want to downplay what she was feeling, and because he understood that she needed to get this all out without him contradicting her.