Neal reaches out instinctively to rest a hand on Malcolm's waist as he sits down, inviting the smaller man to share his chair or at least sit down next to him. He shivers. "I wondered about that."

He doesn't want to eat. He makes himself, though, because Malcolm is right there, and he should. One the taste of the dish is in his mouth--even cold--his appetite gets pricked, and he starts to eat with a little more enthusiasm. "That was what Mathias did, more than anything. Messed with our heads. The physical torture, that was one thing, but it wanted us crazy even more than it wanted us in pain."