For a moment, after she joins him, Neil doesn't say anything. He sits there with his undrunk drink and his unsmoked cigarette. Rosie's unerring patience feels almost too much for a moment, but more than that Neil feels like maybe he ought to be waiting for another shoe to drop.

It's just that sort of day, isn't it? Might as well.

"I feel like an idiot," he finally says, just this low noise of acknowledge of his feelings. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? He laughs about the irony of it, pulling out his wallet and the flattened matchbook in there to light the cigarette. "Do you want one?"