Jay blinks, screwing his eyes shut against the sun for longer than can really qualify as a blink. His breathing's evened out. His shoulders are still wound tight, the sun's still a little too bright, but at least he can string more than two coherent thoughts together in a row.

"Yeah." He wishes he had his hat, or his sunglasses or something. He resists the urge to pull up the hood of his sweatshirt to block the sun. Instead, he turns to Tim. "You?"

The question's only partly sincere. Tim looked fine. Tim's been doing this for years. Jay's pretty damn sure Tim isn't the one this break was for.