"It's bizarre to think about how that was eight months ago. It feels like forever and no time at all." He leans against them for a second, at the dizzying thought that, once upon a time not that long ago, he was an inmate, stuck until he figured himself out, his options either being death or permanent residence. If he hadn't graduated, Shaw and Eiffel would eventually leave, and he'd be left behind.

It makes him feel slightly sick, put in those terms.

Neal rubs his face with both hands, automatically breathing in the calming count he doesn't need to think about any more.