What the fuck would compel anyone to take someone's obviously important medication? For what, safekeeping? Study? That's not - what's the word - humane. And Tim's definitely earned the right to bitch about his captivity as much as he goddamn well pleases, thanks.

He offers a one-shouldered shrug, one hand curling around the opposite elbow. He doesn't just wanna brush it off but - fuck, what does he even say? Thank Jay for owning up to his shit for once? It's not like Tim ever got gold stars or applause for acting like human beings are expected to act. Or if he just shuffles past it, no big deal, maybe that's the reward in and of itself. Congratulations on your newly acquired sense of empathy, Jay, don't fuck it up and maybe this time Tim won't yell at you.

God. No wonder he never had friends in high school.

But whatever, he can shift the subject to something they're both a little comfortable - a little less uncomfortable, maybe - talking about. It's something they're really gonna have to talk about, like it or not. Mostly not.

"Maybe they had the right idea," he answers darkly. With his medication gone now, it's only a matter of time. They both know it.