Home has never been the sacred space for Neal that it was for Raylan. When he was a kid, it was a place to be walked into by Marshals and social service workers when his mom didn't answer the door. Then it was a place to store necessities, nothing that mattered, because anything that mattered got hidden as a matter of course. Then it was nowhere, then it was prison, then it was June's, which is still in many ways a public space.

He watches Raylan's face, trying to figure it out instead of asking. It feels like he should know. It feels like a test, even though he knows on some level it's not. Raylan isn't that kind of person. He doesn't bait strings for Neal to reach for and miss.

Neal finally closes his eyes and shakes his head, just a little, an admission he's ashamed to make.