Fish? That's... cute. He Ming makes a vague noise of acknowledgment, abruptly too dizzy from the change in elevation as he ascends the stairs to say much more.

At least he doesn't fall. He steps through the entryway and stops, gazing back at Malcolm with the kind of rapt attention that comes from being tipsy and enamored at the same time.

"Sure, whatever you're drinking." He Ming heads for the back patio door. It's not really the weather to get into a hot tub, but He Ming starts undressing anyway, toeing off his slides and hanging his shirt over a railing. A glance back at the house tells him that Malcolm isn't back yet, so he hangs up his shorts and underwear too before slipping into the water to wait.