"You got me a ukelele," Tim repeats in toneless disbelief. Jay went out and bought a ukelele. What does someone say to that when the only real gift he's ever received was a beer on his twenty-first courtesy of Brian? What does anyone say to that? He'd be wondering where Jay even got the idea that Tim would know how to play one, except that made its way into one of those old tapes, didn't it?

He couldn't have known it was one of those things Tim came to miss after Alex put a torch to his house. The music hadn't been much, nothing more than a prospective pipe dream, but it'd been the one thing that wasn't mired in the rest of his life's hopeless bullshit. It had been his.

"How'd you - I mean, I didn't know that you remembered." He stares. He's not sure how to take this in. Jay, standing here, holding a ukelele and saying he bought it for Tim.

It's without a doubt the nicest thing anyone's ever done for him.

And it, yeah, it kind of makes sense in that typical, impulsive Jay sort of thing to do when an idea seems great at the time but can quickly backfire but the gesture leaves him - touched, absurdly, that Jay would think to go out and just buy him a ukelele, let alone remember that Tim ever played one in the first place.