Columbus Circle. Okay. Well. Tim's gonna figure it out as he goes. Manhattan's brand new to him, and he can already say that he can't really appreciate the spilling crowds that grow steadily thicker as he goes down the stairs, doing his best to huddle awkwardly away from everyone else. There isn't really an away to huddle to. He draws into himself, resists the stupid, stupid urge to cover the lump in his pocket protectively with a hand - what good would that do? - and sort of wishes he'd brought his jacket to cover it. Fumbling hands take too long with the turnstile and the card takes several tries to process and he's shaking, he's really really shaking as he follows the tide into the train itself because this is the first time since college he's had to deal with this many people all packed together into one space, and he's breathing, and he's breathing and he's dealing with it, and god he needs to get out.

He's trembling.

No he isn't.

His heart is pounding.

No it isn't.

This is way too many people, and it's a constantly shifting tide, crowds flowing in and out at each stop and he has to count one. two. three. with uneven, rapid breaths, tensing each time someone brushes past and jostles the front of his shirt, even slightly. He gets off at the subway's merciful promise of Columbus Circle and experiences a tiny, short-lived thrill of relief before discovering that out at the stop it's even worse.

Tim can't even find space in his mind to be concerned about Jay, stops caring about moving gently or slowly. He just needs to get away.