"Is it? Cause I don't see you kickin' me free quite yet, which is a good thing I hate dealing with the police labs. Far more questions, a bit too tidy, and too dry. You seem like you're a bundle of fun," Mal said rather sarcastically at the man's responses.
Leaning back against the wall, Mal crossed his arms over his chest, staring around the laboratory with his own interest slowly waning; this sort of thing wasn't for Mal, it was a boring thing to sit and wait and hope. Science was great and all, but that was better left for the scientists, he was a soldier, a brawler, he was better suited to punching some lights out and hunting down the bad guy than playing lab rat. Clearing his throat a bit, he listened as Sherlock went about bringing the items together, spinning this or that, or working two computers, not really sure what he was doing.
Finally he perked up when Sherlock began to talk again, "You ain't kiddin' he's predictable. Young moron with a criminal history but no real success in that history. Guy's liable to make mistakes and do what he's always known, get advice, and then skip."
Mal frowned though at the whole thought, moving to stand near the database to look at it, "Now I just need to be sure I can find him. He's been there, which means he's got his jollies off, which means now he's lookin' for money, supplies, and a connection out. He'll go to his friends, they'll tell 'im where to go from there... and we got a couple of days, which means he's already contacted some loan shark..."
Mal nodded, "Right, so I gotta get questionin', well thanks a lot doc you're a giant help. I'll have to bring some of these things to you more often..."
Then he held his hand out, "Malcolm Reynolds, by the way."