Neal shrugs as he retrieves the French press from its spot in the cupboard, reciting again with a far lighter tone:

"If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not;
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot!"

He puts a pot of water on to boil. "Emily Dickinson. I like poetry, memorization. It's like its own kind of puzzle." He makes a softly amused noise. "I would be so useless in an apocalypse."