He's probably right. They could take turns claiming to be the worst person in the room (and honestly, Neal was never going to win that battle, no matter how guilty he felt about how some things in his life had turned out), and never manage to really resolve it. It was a good choice, to move on after offering something that Hook did hear... he just can't quite accept it. It was a little like being told the sky was green. As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew the truth.

Suggesting they change gears to questionable alcohol might not have been the wisest of calls... yet right about now, with ghosts in the halls? He'd never wanted a drink more. And that was saying something, considering the alcoholic had been wanting a bloody drink about the same time he'd completely dried out. The hotel had weened him off with cruel efficiency, enough to keep him from getting ill but there was nothing to keep him from the feverish desire for a drink. Like that might fix what ailed him.

"I got her some things for it, couldn't say if she managed a brew." It wouldn't be the most favorable tasting thing in the world, but it might be worth a shot right about now. Hook takes the swing in conversation completely, lifting a brow. "She owes you a favor, does she?" He didn't think Cashmere was the sort to offer those lightly, it made him a little curious. Maybe they could discuss that, instead of the ghosts they couldn't help or soothe. It wouldn't change anything, granted, but a fleeting escape was better than none at all.