God he wanted to wrap Malcolm up against his chest and console all those tears, to take the pain of it all away from Malcolm but he couldn't. Had no right to, considering he'd caused it. He took a half step forward instead, one hand setting on the barstool chair, fingers smearing in the dust.

I want to know exactly what kind of person you threw Malcolm over for. He trusts you. He trusts you! Neal screaming at him, swinging at him all replayed over in his head. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped the New Yorker from going full out on him.

"Betrayed," he confirmed quietly with a nod. "I can't defend what he did, what.. we did. But I didn't tell him anything," he replied just as softly as he'd ended before. "Nothing you haven't told other people. Nothing about us. I only ever talk about with him in the context of you two talking. I didn't give him that."

He'd offer to let Malcolm hit him if he thought it would help any fraction. He knew it wouldn't. If Malcolm would even take the offer.