From that tone of voice, it's pretty obvious that Cassandra is considering taking him at the literal level and both of Mal's hands fly up, waving in front of himself lightly, as if to ward off the mere idea of that as gently as possible. "No. Uh. No, no. Not real monsters; my younger siblings is what I meant. Sometimes they just act the part of monsters."

Realizing he's still waving his hands about like a fool, Malcolm shoves them back into his pockets. "A medic is a basic healer, yes'um. We're not even supposed to stitch up a wound but, well, I've always been a neat hand with a sewing needle and can at least identify what you shouldn't eat or what can sooth."

He can send messages with flowers too! He's like the worst sort of jack-of-all-trades ever. "Do you know anything about plants for dyes or the like?"