Neal stares at the food. He's straining to hear something beyond the quiet noises of the house. A look out the window tells him the sun is out, and the branches on a tree across the street are still. It should make him feel better, knowing the wind is gone, but he can't stop bracing for it anyway.

What happened to him?

"Nothing. I mean, I woke up in the Grey Gull, with some other people. It was just." He waves a hand, the gesture feeling grotesquely dismissive. "The building kept shaking, there were noises. We were all fine."