Nate can't remember the last beer he had, but suddenly he thinks that's exactly what he needs. If he's going crazy he might as well get blackout drunk.

"I haven't been drinking," he tells her, shaking his head. He focuses his gaze on Lila, and the more he concentrates on anything else, the more Sam starts to fade again. He's not here, that much is clear. Whatever Nate is seeing, Sam was never really here. He died on a job ten years ago, Nate knows that, saw it. He hates this fucking city.

"This city is driving me off the deep end," he tells her, rubbing a hand over his face.