attackfish

If there was one thing Neal had always been good at, it was falling into the shmaltz pot. He slipped out of the vintage suit and into vintage silk pajamas, and into a bed so soft it almost hurt. Less than a day after getting out of prison and here he was. Not bad. The city lights flickered through the glass. There was glass everywhere. It was a room made for light, and it bathed in light. Neal grinned.

And the grin stayed, brittle and sharp as the sun rose on a man who couldn't even believe his own smiles.