Jay presses his back up against a wall and frantically feels through his pockets, rambling as he does so. "No, I mean I'm not...I can't, I know that's obvious, but I'm not, like, a twenty-foot tall...I guess, metaphorically or whatever, but--pocketknife."

He retrieves the knife, tilting it so Tim can see (not that that's particularly easy, with this fog).

"That's it. Didn't even give me a spare card for this thing." Annoyed, he lifts the camera to indicate the 'thing' in question before shoving the folded knife back in his pocket.

There's an echoing squeal from the hallway, laced with static, like a radio being tuned. Jay hisses through his teeth, flattening himself back against the wall.