"Manhattan?" Jay does laugh at that, a dry, brittle sound like dead leaves. "Since when does Manhattan have cottages? Manhattan Kansas?"
No answer makes sense, and it doesn't make much difference anyway. He shivers visibly, and drawing his arms around himself and looking down at his feet. What little humor there was fades out. They can't pretend anything is normal, or ever was, for that matter.
"I, um," he says. "I don't remember everything that happened." He runs his hand over his own shoulder in an echo of comfort. "I remember, um, showing up at your house, and..." He huffs out a breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I left you a message, didn't I? Did you get my message?" Finally he looks up, searching Tim's eyes. "I didn't - I wasn't acting right. I'm sorry."
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No answer makes sense, and it doesn't make much difference anyway. He shivers visibly, and drawing his arms around himself and looking down at his feet. What little humor there was fades out. They can't pretend anything is normal, or ever was, for that matter.
"I, um," he says. "I don't remember everything that happened." He runs his hand over his own shoulder in an echo of comfort. "I remember, um, showing up at your house, and..." He huffs out a breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I left you a message, didn't I? Did you get my message?" Finally he looks up, searching Tim's eyes. "I didn't - I wasn't acting right. I'm sorry."