Jay stands there obediently, looking at the spot on the floor next to the body, until the syringe is held up to him, and he registers it slowly, the intent after the actual fact of the thing.

His eyes dart up to Tim.

"Why?" he asks bluntly even as he reaches out to take it. Trembling. Hating himself.

He handles it awkwardly for a moment before slipping it right into his vein. He shouldn't, for so many reasons, he knows he shouldn't. He didn't even want to at first, it was freaked out at the idea, but he has to now. He has to.

He flexes his hand and lets out a shuddering breath, feeling the itch lessen a little, feeling himself settle.

He doesn't thank Tim. Not for this.

"Let's keep moving," he mutters, dropping the emptied syringe with a clatter.