Everything is slowing down, he's sure he can watch the embers cooling to grey as they rain down around his head, hear each beam splintering around them. There's too much physical sensation for Eliot to make much sense of it. It's like he's starting to shut down. Alley Guy's voice filters through from both immediately next to him and like it's coming from somewhere a billion miles off in a tinny echo. It's a second before he remembers to pay attention to the actual words.

Oh. A ripcord sound dislodges itself from his chest. Breathing is hard, making words is harder. "Think I've fucked up worse. But. I'm still s-"

Sorry for what? Sorry I'm letting you die? Sorry I'm dying too, so we're both dying for nothing. Sorry you thought I was someone worth saving? He lets it go.

Tim. Alley Guy is Tim. He considers what he knows about Tim. Tim runs into burning buildings for luckless bastards he doesn't know. Tim is absurdly cavalier about his own impending death. What was it he said. Soft spot for headcases. Tim is saving the wrong person. Probably. Probably, he doesn't know shit about Tim.

"Eliot. I'm Eliot. My name is, I mean," No point in wasting your possible last breath on semantics, "What do people say when they're doing this? Pleased to meet you, Tim. Was that out loud?" Not like that was a better choice