"Wish...wish Buffy were still here," Jay mutters. George probably knows more than him about space cameras, sure, but she's not the tech person. They're in charge of what goes on camera, not how it gets there.

But Tim was talking in terms of we, earlier. Now he's not. Now he's just gone quiet.

Jay's focus drops back to his tray, to the fork with the smoothed-off points. Everything here's rounded and solid and bolted down, so nobody gets hurt. So he can't hurt anyone.

This isn't a good time, but it's not like a good time is ever really gonna show up.

"Hey, uh." Jay forces himself to look up. "Hey, Tim?"