"He didn't kill me." Neal's not sure how to handle the wall of both kindness and command. So he does what he does when he's not sure how to handle something: barrels on regardless, ignoring his feelings and their decrees both.

He tries to sit up for a second, and decides almost immediately that it won't help his argument or his ego. He flops back, glaring at the ceiling for a moment, ignoring the way his whole body trembles. "And he didn't kill this other girl, either."

Neal can't bring himself to look at any of them, and he's not sure why. "It would have made his life a lot simpler if he had."