He has never been much good at hiding his reactions to things, try as he might. When Galen mentions hallucinating his mother, Ned - who had been watching a bee climb its way up a stalk of lavender - looks up at Galen sharply. Now, more than ever, he realizes how lucky he is to have arrived after the mass drugging. If he had hallucinated his own mother, he isn't sure he would have come out the other side quite sane.

Part of him wants to ask why Galen's mother, what happened to her (perhaps nothing, but Ned has already been seeing so many parallels between them that his mind leaps to the conclusion), but he remains silent. It's none of his business. Galen's told him plenty of things today - difficult, personal things - without Ned prying for more.

"They're comparable enough," Ned says. Mentally, he adds except that yours doesn't come with a body count. But he doesn't want to remind Galen any more than necessary that he's a murderer. "So yeah, I know what you mean."

There is a moment of silence between them, and Ned says quietly, "I never thought I'd meet anyone who got it. Or even anyone else who had could do stuff, like we can." That has been one of the unexpected silver linings of being brought to this place: realizing that he isn't alone.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it any more, but do you know where it came from, in the first place? Your dream-walking stuff?" Ned, in his own way, is trying to be helpful, trying to point Galen in the direction of an answer, of an identity, if he should want one. Ned knows from recent experience how great that can be. "I don't have any idea for mine, but some people here were saying that maybe it's something to do with genetic mutation? Which made a lot more sense to me than... than a random curse."