There is warmth again. Something from nothing. And despite what Neil says, despite the irregularity and nearly precious quality of it, the kid does not understand.

The arm Neil is laying against curls to hold him closer, pressing palm flat against his back. "...You do know that this is being good to me, right? You're talking to me without arguing, you're letting me hold you, and you're not fighting me at all. That's a kindness in itself, right?"