"I - I was," says Jay, sliding easily to the floor. Standing on his own two feet again is weird, but it's better than that ridiculous introduction. "You did. Thanks."

He looks up at the guy, who looks more or less like a Disney character anyway, all tall and beefy and polite. Awkward, nervous gestures come back naturally; Jay's hand has already found the back of his neck.

Something about this room and this guy - the symmetricality of the place, the nondescript white clothes he's wearing, the way he seemed to just instinctively know to catch him - sort of gives him the willies.

"I'm, uh," he says, looking around, automatically checking for exits. "I'm Jay."