Nine times out of ten, he won’t even try.

It’s almost safer to say “ten times out of ten”. Comfort isn’t in Andrew’s vocabulary and as far as he’s considered it’s a waste of time and energy. He’s more likely to walk away or tell Neil to get over it or look right past whatever existential/psychological crisis Neil is having. Neil’s grumpiness after a loss are brushed aside unimportant, and his aggravation over uncooperative teammates is nothing to pity him for.

But once in a long while Neil will hit a ledge he has to be pulled back from, and that’s what Andrew does. Like in Baltimore, when Neil is trying to say Do you want me to go, and Andrew catches hold and tells him Stay. This is how Andrew comforts: by being a stabilizing force, an anchor to keep Neil at home, a place to rest his weight and his secrets. Honestly, that’s what Neil needs.

But if you would really like a moment of genuine “comfort”, Andrew-style, then it would be the day Neil gets the call that Wymack is dead. It is the first time Andrew sees Neil cry, and he does not know what to do with this heartbroken grief. So he sits with Neil instead, back-to-back, with a cigarette burning in his hand ((because he has lived with Neil’s cigarette-smoke obsession for far too many years)). He says nothing, but he is a weight and a presence to keep Neil upright.