He feels a touch guilty at how glad that Ginsberg, too, has other stuff. Some of it Ned's had a glimpse of: his father not being his 'real' father, never having met his mother, putting up with constant surveillance, and apparently being sent to a psychoanalyst. Some of it, he's sure, he has no notion of. It would be wrong to say that he's happy, precisely, that Ginsberg has his own helping of problems, but it eases him. It's a kind of solidarity Ned is unaccustomed to.

"You're doing it again," he murmurs, "Being nice to me. It's very alarming." But from the touch of tentative humor and gratitude in his voice, Ned is anything but alarmed. Cautious, maybe, but that's hardly Ginsberg's fault.

Ned swallows, his heartbeat finally beginning to slow down to a more normal rate. "Same deal. You can tell me stuff, too, I mean. If and when you want. I don't... I'd hate it if you thought just because I freaked out just now that you can never talk about your dad in front of me or I'll flip my lid. That was uh- a one time thing. Promise."