"Meant to survive," Neal repeats softly. He agrees with that. He does. Life is the most precious thing in the world, the most precious thing in any world. He's not used to seeing life pushed this way. He's not used to seeing people bent to the edge of breaking. There's always been a solution, an ending, a warm embrace waiting at the end of the day and the relief of knowing the worst is over. Yes, sometimes there were sharp pieces left to pick up, and yes, sometimes the only way to do it was bare-handed and alone. But there was always someone waiting with bandages and booze significantly better than the cowboys' moonshine.

He studies his glass, the admission coming slow and only with the help of the alcohol: "I've never known so many walking wounded."