Conflicting surges of relief and refreshing anxiety tense Tim's shoulders and neck when he sees the place, one hand dipping unconsciously into his jacket pocket to grip his inexorably shrinking supply of medication. This is all he has to help. This place is the only possibility of help when he can't even leave the city.

He can't consider the fact that there might not be anything they can do.

"I, uh. Yeah," he says, shooting her a look of mingled confusion and gratitude. "Think I'm just gonna head back to my room once I'm, you know. Done here."

It's safer, he almost adds, but thinks better of it. Instead he rattles off his number, because that seems a decent compromise. Distance is good. Distance is safe.