"Sounds like my life story," Neal remarked, dark eyes scanning the list of ingredients and instructions for what came next. One teaspoon of vanilla...a teaspoon. Well. That was kind of like half the bottle he just dumped in, but there was nothing wrong with a cake that had a bit of extra vanilla zing to it, right? No, not at all. "Except I can't say I love the old man."
He might. Deep down inside, there may still be a smidgen of forgiveness and love for the man Baelfire once called 'Papa' too - but it was all buried in a box, and Neal had locked it and thrown away the key. Anger, bitterness, and resentment were piled on top of anything Neal had resembling love for his father.
"Well, I wish you luck with school. I'm sure you'll find something you really enjoy, and you'll get to do it because you want to not because anyone's telling you to." One benefit to being here, he supposed, provided nothing weird and cultish happened in the meantime.