For a long moment he doesn't say anything. He just chews, though he stopped tasting the egg roll a few minutes ago. It's something for his body to do while his mind works through that, through what it means.

He'd never had to tell his own mother that he was queer--and by the time he'd been sure, his father had fucked off and died wrapped around a tree. He can't even imagine saying what Neil has to say.

"You don't really have to make shit up," he says finally, once he's swallowed and worked some moisture back into his mouth. "You could... I mean, you could just say we met at a bar. That's not lying. It's just not telling her all of it."