Something about that apparently distresses Jay in a way that, for a split second, escapes him. Only for a second, until the moment the glaring white disk of a mask fits easily over the shadow's face like something out of a nightmare. It's like the kind of mask Tim always kicked away under his bed and pretended didn't exist (because you remember what happens when you try and get rid of it, don't you?), but the markings are all wrong.

Whatever it is, Jay recognizes it. There's no mistaking it. Jay recognizes it, and it terrifies him.

"Maybe that's your fault too, Tim," the shadow crows triumphantly. "Ever think of that?"

Tim -

Tim looks at Jay.

Looks at the recognition. The unmistakable horror.

"Jay," he says, drawing the word out, "what are they talking about?"