He should have said something to Eiffel in the room. He shouldn't have let shock and anxiety get the better of him. He should have done something other than simply trying to get Eiffel to let Malcolm pass.

Neal sets his cup down on the coffee table and resists the urge to flex his fingers and help dissipate the slowly fading sting.

He wants to say it's not all it's cracked up to be. That Malcolm at least has no illusions about the people around him. That he gets a clear picture of who he can trust when he's himself.

"He doesn't know you," is what he says. "He never should have said that."

It was mean and humiliating, and said in front of a room full of people Malcolm was already upset by. Neal stares hard at his glass, brow slightly furrowed. "It wasn't... It wasn't a show. I didn't talk to Lestat after it happened. I didn't talk to him until I knew you were okay. And I... maybe I shouldn't have, I probably shouldn't have, but everyone was ready to--"

No, it doesn't matter. Neal rubs his uninjured palm against his slacks and stands up. "I should really go."