He's standing in the middle of Phillips Drive, the houses around him pristine. Pristine and empty. It's summer, maybe, or the very end of spring--either way there's an edge of crispy heat to the air.

A sound, something, gets Neal to turn around sharply, and in the half-second before he wakes up he would swear he sees Raylan walking toward him, dripping shadows.

Neal jerks sharply, fixing Malcolm with a wide-eyed look that doesn't quite register his face. Then he does. Forces himself to breathe a little easier. "Yeah. I'm. Yes."

He looks out the window, sees where they are, tries to get his head pulled back from the realism of that open street. "Right."