“Yeah,” Neal says quietly, tone unsettled. “Yeah they were.”

He shakes his head, flashing Malcolm a smile with its own wattage a little bit dimmed. “I’m fine. Just going to be seeing spots for a week.”

God, does Malcolm not feel that? Neal closes his eyes—or rather they flicker closed for an abnormal half-second—-as he gathers himself and tries to refit his comfortably friendly mask.

He can’t keep himself from glancing over his shoulder to make sure nothing is there, though. He laughs faintly, trying to make it a joke. “I swear, an automatic door could open around me lately and I’d get tense.”