Ouija board it is, then. He balances fingertips over the surface of the planchette and watches it slide evenly over the board as Jay spells it out, slow and careful.

He looks up at the space where he assumes Jay must be, guarded, nervous, weary, but faintly, tiredly - relieved. One corner of his mouth twitches, his expression softening by increments.

They've gone a ways from angry fistfights beneath streetlights in a darkened parking lot.

"Yeah," says Tim. "I think we will be."