Neil could laugh. Nothing here calls for laughter, and therefore, he settles on merely shaking his head. "Who knows how I would have reacted earlier?" he adds. "What dreams I might have had?"

The latter, honestly, is what strikes the most. What would he have had, feverish and ill, with full knowledge of this?

(Goddammit.)

He raises both hands to his eyes suddenly, to drag them down his face a beat later. The motion stabilizes. Nullifies a distortion somewhere inside him. "Thank you, really. Right now is best time you could have told me," Neil says evenly.