[There's something under Tim's shirt. It's substantial, whatever it is. Too small to be a chest-cam, at least by 2013 standards. Could be a necklace with some kind of large pendant, or a medal. Could be something else, maybe something implanted in his chest, maybe some horrible growth. There's so much Jay doesn't know yet, about Tim and his island and his castle and his friends, and he's already wasted his question.]

[He cocks his head, squinting at the lump under Tim's hand.]

[It's not polite to stare.]

[He forces his gaze back to the table.]

[What was he saying? They're all different, and that's not a bad thing. This Tim has known another Jay, and he could tell the other guy was different. Jay--this Jay, the one he is right now, sitting across from Tim and carving curved nail-marks into the tabletop--has changed, become a different version of himself, a not-Jay, or at least a not-the-same-Jay. Merrick-adJaycent. Fuck, focus.]

[What is that lump?]

[Don't focus on that.]

Bad or not, does that make us...?

[No, also a bad idea. He wants to cut it off there, but he's not sure how else to end the sentence. Does that make them someone else? Is there one right version of them? Is that one of the other ones?]

Like, how much...how much d'you think we can--?

[Goddammit, it's not his turn for a question. Stop. Reword it. Rethink it. No questions in the title cards.]

When we forget stuff, we change. When stuff happens, we--we change. Like, I guess that's natural, or whatever. I'm just not sure how much can really happen before we, I dunno...

Like, that's what happened with Alex. And Brian. They changed.

[Does this Tim know he knows about Brian? Does this Tim know about Brian himself?]