Look, Tim doesn't get the physics of this any better, okay? He woke up in a new universe, so everyone keeps telling him, and now he has a shiny new phone and a shiny new life and he's planning to keep it sequestered away in hotels. It's The Jay Life, part deux, but at least it's sort of safe, kind of, or it would be if people didn't keep wandering into his head.

"That's what everyone keeps saying." Tim shrugs again, looks at the ground again, then somewhat begrudgingly drags one of the blankets from Jay's stolen armchair to pull it over his lap and pick absently at some of its loose strands. "I mean, I woke up in fucking Manhattan like two days ago, and people tell me that's normal. It's a new world, or something. And apparently here they have dreams where just about anyone can wander in."

Including people who are dead, gone, shot through, stamped out, bleeding out, no eyes, left broken and unburied and unmourned. Do his parents know? Did they ever find out? Do they even know where he's been the last five years? Tim didn't even think to contact them, fuck.

"So I guess right now you're here. Kind of." Right now. Something transient. Maybe it's his head, or a figment, or not. Maybe Jay is just - there for now, floating without anchoring. If that makes any sense.