"Yeah," Daniel agrees. "Terrible allergy. Like that made for TV movie about the kids who couldn't go outside."

He meanders alongside Neil, and if it isn't his joints that are grateful for a slower pace these days, he's glad for the chance to really look around. If it's some fucked up shit from Armand or the Talamasca, it's good.

"I'm pretty iron deficient too," he adds, glancing over at Neil, monitoring the response, seeing what will hold and what will bring the word out into the open air. Maybe it's all normal here, and no one gives a shit.