Sticky juice runs down his arms, dripping onto his face, and somewhere Neil accepts that he has simply gone mad. That he should just give up before more things become much like this punga fruit. When Alex moves to uncurl fingers, Neil lets him. Puts up no resistance. The younger only looks at the mess with something like apathy.

Alex speaks, and Neil can only respond. Talk as if he had not just pulverized a punga fruit.

"Okay." Neil moves to sit up, careful not to ruin the sheet too much. "That sounds like a good idea."