"What?" He's looking around before he gets an answer, realizing, not the quick stab of recollection that hits when he remembers how dead he is, but slow, seeping in, water filling the cracks in the ground. This is it. This is where it happens.

He decides it's probably best not to react. In the woods he was close to telling Tim - it's me, I'm here, I'm in Manhattan just like you - but now... what's the point? Tim doesn't need that. All Jay's ever done is make things worse. No, stick with the original plan. Your gut instinct. Leave Tim alone. Get out of his head tonight and leave him alone. That's probably what he'd rather.

He doesn't say anything, perhaps conspicuously, and gets shakily to his feet.

"Man I wish I had my camera," he mutters.