Neverwinter Forest gentleman prefer blondes but i'm not classically trained

Mal was not good with emotions -- other than anger, that was about the only one he had totally figured out.  Everything else was some grand mystery, so it was probably unsurprising that there was a slight look of bewilderment (maybe a little bit of panic too) because when it came right down to it, Mal didn't know what to do about a lot of things.  Hell, he didn't know a lot about himself because he'd been too busy being angry to say much about anything else.

There were some scenarios where someone was crying that he could understand -- maybe they had been hurt or whatever, but considering most of the overly-emotional wolves he knew were the ones he detested, he wasn't sure what to make of it when someone who'd been reasonably stoic had also gone and cracked.  But what was he supposed to do?  Nobody'd been a good example for him -- when wolves had tried to comfort him as a child, their words had been full of empty promises.  Hell, he didn't even know what was going on here!  His weight shifted, forward, back, not knowing if he should go forward or leave.  He stayed put in the end, frozen. What--?  Wait, like what happened?  Here? Who did what? The whole thing was a little disjointed. Mal was doing his damnedest to still pretend he wasn't a clueless buffoon, but from his verbal flailing, wasn't it obvious that's what he was?  Maybe answers would like... Make things go faster or something and uh, make it less awkward?  Oh please make it so!  He was mentally wriggling like a beached fish.