Neal takes the tea without looking at Malcolm, staring instead at the the faint silt at the bottom of the cup. There's a weird sort of numbness settling over him, not peace, but something like it.

Malcolm hasn't given up on him. Raylan hasn't walked out.

He has no idea what to do with this.

"I don't know," he says. It's probably the most honest thing he's said in the past hour.