A rough breath was forced out of him at the force of Neal colliding into him, but there was no hesitation in him dropping his hat so he could wrap both his arms tightly around Neal like the smaller man was some saving rock in the storm he felt in the middle of. The sudden wracked sobs are both a surprise and not; a surprise because he didn't expect it so immediately and not a surprise at all because he was on the edge of it himself.

He couldn't help the hot fresh tears rolling down his cheek and into Neal's hair, head shaking in a silent protest against the working jaw against his shoulder, one hand coming up to cup Neal's neck. What the hell could he say to help this? To comfort what they'd just been through? He wasn't John Henry. He wasn't Malcolm. He didn't have those tools.

"I know," he managed to say, knowing it to be a lie and not caring, the words themselves half drowned in his own tears and accent thick. "But we're.." Alive? Whole? Barely on the latter count. His body shuddered with the uneven half sob that pulled from his chest.

No, conversation wasn't gonna happen for a good few long seconds.