Malcolm's eyes get wide because Jim is speaking his language. "Dreams are often your subconscious's way of trying to tell you something. I'm glad that you listened, otherwise you never would have found out that you could do it."

He's curious now, of course. Maybe he has this power too. Only one way to find out.

Malcolm pulls out his knife and holds the blade to his fingertip. After a quick slash, blood starts to seep from the wound. "Just.. drip it on the floor?" he asks with a sharp hiss as the pain from his cut hits him.