There's rarely a time where a hug is awkwardly received on Foggy's part, so when Karen wraps around him a second time he falls into the pattern. Is he reminded more of sitting by candlelight with Karen at Elena Cardenas' than of blackouts and Panorama's brokedown motels? Absolutely. Almost as if the memories are ghosting past as a reminder that none of them are ever as far as they think when they really need each other.

"No kidding," he agrees, once more finding the light on the planes of her face. The gentle flickering does illuminate her more and he scoffs playfully. "God, you look good. A sight for sore, sun-scorched, sand-blasted eyes."

Drifting to find a plate, he carefully transfers the candle with a little pour of wax to keep it standing and upright. A second or even a third would be nice, but he puts off the idea of splitting the one they have, opting for its longevity over the illumination it would bring with a separate flame.

"Tell me everything," Foggy says, fussing after seats for them both and making sure that their candle's best suited for the positions they take. "How you woke up, what got you to Panaroma— This is wild, right? Not that wild, I guess, but still wild..."