Chewing through the crisped fried batter, Neal spotted the familiar mess of unruly hair and headed towards him. The knot of guilt easing a little at the sight of Les, draped across one of the benches. He should've done more for him, he should've done something else but keep him from social services.

Reaching out to brush his hair, like he used to, Neal hesitated before pushing his hand into his pocket.

"Hey kiddo," Neal drawled, falling into the seat beside him on the bench. "Great minds, think alike. How's business?"