It's a relief when Malcolm finally sits - his stiff posture as he hovered above her desk had slowly been putting her more and more on edge. Cassandra sighs quietly, frowning at the formal tone of his reply. She may as well have asked for a report, for the answer that he gives her.

Is it her? Does she truly make him so uncomfortable, so...nervous? Perhaps he does not wish to be more than a soldier, reporting in and doing his duty in watching out for the well-being of his commander? No, she cannot believe that. This is Malcolm, and she knows he cares for her and wants her to be well, just as she cares for him.

Doesn't he?

She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, fighting a headache. This is pointless. Neither of them have the time to waste dancing around words - and Cassandra, at least, has no patience for it in any case.

"You are not disturbing me, Malcolm," she says. Even if...well, perhaps it had come off that way. She raises her head to look at him, trying to smile. "I...it is good to know that..." She sighs again, struggling for the words, even now. "That you cared enough to ask."