Tim blows out a plume of smoke, one hand hooked over the railing, the other pinching his cigarette between index and middle finger. The night's heat isn't unbearable to the point where smoking's a bad idea, but the nicotine's liable to keep him awake for hours to come.

He wasn't about to sleep anyway.

It only takes a few moments, but he draws it out. Let the ash trail out between fingertips and wisp out across the breeze. Takes a minute to eye the darkened, distant treeline, which sits there innocuously in the distance, the same as ever, before he starts back through the hall.

Camera perched and blinking, ready to track them through the night. The first few nights in grimy hotels had been the hardest, for a variety of reasons, but the inability to escape the piercing, flickering red of the recording light had left him tossing, turning, huddling, for hours on end. Wondering if Jay had the same difficulties adjusting, before deciding not to ask. Why would Jay notice, or care? He might as well be attached to the camera, the way he carries it around.

He shuts the door behind him, dropping into the desk chair.

"You good?"