Malcolm furrows his brow, confused. He's startled when Jim grabs his wrist. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to figure out if I have it too." Seriously, Jim?

He manages to get out of Jim's grip and then turn his hand over, watching as the blood drips from his finger onto the floor of the barn. Malcolm's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling right now, so he tries to compose a message in his head, figuring out who he wants to send it to.

Nothing.

"Okay, was there anything else you did in order to send the message?"