If Mal wanted to simply end the emotion Garret felt, well... he had. Quite abruptly. Giving Mal a look, Garret crossed his arms over his chest, a light mix of embarassed and pissed. "No," he said simply, a bit of ice in his tone. So much for that happiness. Already Garret was starting to miss the downtrodden Mal who kept his mouth shut.
"Steak's fine. Just get me a six ounce porterhouse, medium rare. I'm gonna check and see if I have any beer. Steak needs beer." And Garret needed a moment to 'collect himself', as it were. And maybe Rorie and Mal needed a moment, too.
"Grit!" Max called. "I can-"
"No!" he called back over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. "You cna't pronounce my name, you get no beer."