In Neal’s world, any information is a weapon, used now or used later. The less someone knows about you, the safer you are—-from manipulation, from law enforcement, from who you used to be. Neal is a liar. He knows this about himself. In the ordinary way of things, he’s very, very good at it. He sees some of that same control in Tim, and it puts him on significantly on edge.

As Tim elaborates on what he saw, Neal closes his eyes. Of course. Of course it would be one of his lowest moments, one of the things he’s most ashamed of. There’s a knot in his throat he can’t swallow away, and it’s hard not to lash out or walk out. Fight or flight.

Neal doesn’t want Tim to have seen what he saw. He doesn’t want to have to talk about it. He reins in the urge to snap Looks like you figured it all out already, or You have no idea what I felt.

He does know. Neal has experienced enough memories now to see that much. He felt it.

Still. Still. Neal can’t just confirm or deny. One is too hard and the other is too telling.

“It could be seen that way.”