Gil crossed the threshold with relief, flexing his toes as they came in from the cold again. He shivered, looking the clothes over then giving Malcolm another examination. "I'm getting the picture that our resources here aren't what they would be at home."

Something about that fact set off alarm bells, but he couldn't put a finger on why yet.

It would come to him. He made his way over to a rack of flannels that looked to be the right size, tugging a couple off of their hangars before heading for the jeans. "How many of us are there? How are people staying fed?"