Neal holds the cup in his burned hand, inviting the way the hypersensitive skin starts to feel like it's being broiled. It makes him think of Kate's murder, the way he would hold his hands over candles and try to imagine what her last moments had been like. The difference was he always got to take his hands away from the flames when it got to be too much.

"Me too," he says softly. "The... 'too this, too that.' It's always too something."