So the assist was all but pointless. Great, fine. He straightens, casting about for the flowccus, but it's long gone.

Priorities have shifted, then. From save what you can to make sure this guy at least makes it off Ziziphus safe. He doesn't know him, doesn't trust that smile, but maybe it's a perfectly normal smile for someone to have, given the circumstances. Tim isn't big on smiling; he's hardly an expert.

"Sure, and last month I was bleeding rot onto the fucking dirt. I don't care where you've been, pal. If we don't move, we're both gonna drown, or worse."

Tim seems to think this is a bad thing. But he has issues, as it happens, with the concept of drowning.