Neal breathes in deep, letting it out as a soft sigh when Norton moves. It’s the soft, panicked words that wake him, blinking at Norton, still slightly sleep-drunk.

“Norton? S’matter.”

“First name’s a start.”

Neal wakes up after that, very, very fast. He sits up, hand going to Norton’s shoulder both protectively and for support. He starts to ask who’s there but the words shrivel up half-way to being said.

“No,” is what he says instead. “That’s impossible. You’re in a Russian prison on the other side of the world.”

Keller saunters a little further in, going to open the fridge and give what’s inside a once-over. “Clearly I am not.”