He wants to turn away and let it happen. Leave Jay like he left him. The bastard deserves it, doesn't he? See how he likes being left behind to something that'll flay him raw and peel away the layers of what he is. There's no difference between what Jay did to him and this - just the degrees of how literally the cat-things are going to take it.

Tim's jaw aches from how tightly he's been gritting his teeth. He wants to turn, and leave, and for a wild instant he shifts like he's about to. He could make good on his threat. He could leave Jay. That'd fix a lot of things. One less loose end to worry about.

It's direct, visceral horror that stabs at him after he thinks it that stops him.

For a minute there -

No. He wouldn't have actually -

Yes, he would have.

Tim swallows, fighting down the lurching nausea in his gut.

It's not Jay's stupid, stupid pleading that sways him. It's not the kitten's horrific, gleeful declaration. It's not even the sight of those horrible claws snnk-ing out that propels him forward, foot flying out to kick the tiny furry thing pinioning Jay down and send it hurtling across the room.

It's the fact that, for a blinding, terrifying minute, he sounded like Alex.

He ducks down to scoop Jay up and jam him unceremoniously in his pocket without any of the care or delicacy he should be handling him with, and cuts an unflinching line for the door.