Neal's sitting up, gripping propped on his hands, gripping at the mattress like he can tear it open all on his own. Breathing fast. Soaked in sweat. He keeps his eyes locked on the far wall for a moment, still half-caught in the sick pleasure of that bat balanced his hands.

A belated flinch at Malcolm's words, and he shifts enough to stare at the other man instead. It takes him a second to get his words together. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm..."

Fine. He makes a soft noise that couldn't be called amusement even if it wanted to be. "Nightmare," he says instead.

He shifts until he's sitting up properly, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Did I wake you up?"