It is. The best time. Neil wasn't lying. That...probably held enough ammunition to end him for good, had he not had the chance to solidify. He's grateful for the timing, truly. Honestly.

But the cracks are starting to show. The blood is beginning to creep in his veins, to sludge through the pathways beneath his skin, as he thinks about his thoughts. As he thinks as Alex requests.

A hand touches his chin, and it all becomes clear. On the exact nature of the torrent rushing through his increasingly cold and pallor skin. "I'm thinking," he begins. Neil pauses to swallow, struggling with a bone-dry mouth, before correcting himself. "I'm wondering if I'm still the same guy who got on that riverboat over a month ago."