To his credit, Tim's keeping up. He's well-used to pushing his body past its limits, even more used to doing so with fire roaring in the backdrop and the thick stench of smoke in his lungs.

"Think so." He lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. "Unless that got blown up too." At this point, all he really has is pointless optimism, and that's not particularly his strong suit.

Clearing the blast radius is gonna be hell, given that everyone else seems to be doing the same. Everyone who can still walk, anyway. Tim grunts, jostled to one side by some unlucky guy who brushes roughly past, the entire right side of his face slick with red. Tim swallows hard and hopes to god he's not going to be sick.

"Shit," he mutters again. "Not gonna be easy getting out. Bulkhead's gonna be packed."