He watches Neil for a few seconds more before he starts eating again--and it might as well be sawdust for all the good it's doing him. His arms, the backs of his hands, his shoulders--all prickling with spent adrenaline, and the healing wound in his shoulder is itching, suddenly and fiercely.

And it just doesn't seem fair that nothing good between them ever lasts.

"We're getting there," he says finally, quiet. "It's only been a few days."