He knew it wouldn't. Mathis had proved herself a bitch of mode of operation. If anyone could have survived anything, it was John fucking Constantine and the fog. And even John had failed. What hope did normies like them have?

Raylan hated how Neal was feeling, but it was reasonable. He should have probably been worried that he wasn't falling down the same hole but Neal looked at things directly. Raylan had twenty five years practice of not looking at anything that could hurt him. Destroy him and throw everything into question. Neal and his everything gave Raylan something else to focus on; he was grateful.

A heavy hand dropped on Neal's back as Raylan came to a stop next to him and started rubbing back and forth. "You gotta stop.. Just focus on your breathin'. Deep breath in, hold two three four, let it out and take another. C'mon, deep breath in..." He waited for Neal to inhale and follow the suit laid out.