Tim snorts. He can't help it. Sure, Jay. You won't let it get that far. Just like how he didn't let his little investigation into Tim's life get that far. Just like how he knew not to go prodding into Alex Kralie's abandoned student film. Yeah, those self-preservation instincts are spot on.
As far as Tim's concerned, he has every reason to believe that Jay has next to no conception of his own limits, let alone those of other people. They might be on speaking terms - kind of - but he has by no accounts any reason to trust him.
Anymore, at least.
He wriggles ahead, getting ready to uncurl from his cramped little elbows-and-knees shuffle when the hard clang of Jay being thrust into the wall jars his balance.
"Shit - "
Splicer. Looking just as bad as any of the others, his face nearly unrecognizable for all the swelling and - and oh god. Tim shrinks back into the vent. Yep. He's good here. He'll wait.
Except -
"Well, what then?" he fires back, desperately. "I'm not gonna stay here - for the love of - "
With a final, fervent mutter of, "fuck it," Tim worms out of the vent, lands in a stumbling sprawl on the ground, and darts for the door, trying to cut around the splicer as it wails and swats at the insects humming over its skin. Tim reaches for the door, itching with the need to get away as quickly as goddamn possible. If the bees get him, then they get him. He'll get stung. He can take it. He's run out of reasons to care.
no subject
As far as Tim's concerned, he has every reason to believe that Jay has next to no conception of his own limits, let alone those of other people. They might be on speaking terms - kind of - but he has by no accounts any reason to trust him.
Anymore, at least.
He wriggles ahead, getting ready to uncurl from his cramped little elbows-and-knees shuffle when the hard clang of Jay being thrust into the wall jars his balance.
"Shit - "
Splicer. Looking just as bad as any of the others, his face nearly unrecognizable for all the swelling and - and oh god. Tim shrinks back into the vent. Yep. He's good here. He'll wait.
Except -
"Well, what then?" he fires back, desperately. "I'm not gonna stay here - for the love of - "
With a final, fervent mutter of, "fuck it," Tim worms out of the vent, lands in a stumbling sprawl on the ground, and darts for the door, trying to cut around the splicer as it wails and swats at the insects humming over its skin. Tim reaches for the door, itching with the need to get away as quickly as goddamn possible. If the bees get him, then they get him. He'll get stung. He can take it. He's run out of reasons to care.