Neal enjoys it for a little while, charmed by Malcolm’s enthusiasm and murmuring the occasional memorable line under his breath. Before too long though, he finds his focus drifting. Not onto anything in particular. He’s just… distracted. Distractible. He has to keep pulling himself back into the moment to listen. Malcolm’s voice is soothing, though, and Neal starts to doze somewhere around chapter thirteen. Almost immediately, he slips into dreams of fire, and this time it isn’t just Raylan screaming. It’s an unholy chorus, begging for his help, and Neal gasps awake at the sight of Malcolm in flames, one hand reaching out as he falls.

He startles hard enough to yank at his stitches, send a bolt of pain through him that makes him hiss, face screwed up in pain.