[Jay shrugs, the movement lopsided and forced. He'd think this would be a relief, after watching it slowly sag and drip in the room-temperature heat, but now it's somehow managed to get him even more freaked out.]

[What's Jay supposed to do if he doesn't like it?]

[They toss it. It's nothing.]

[He wasted--]

[He didn't waste anything. He didn't even waste time, just the split-second of deliberation and the effort it took to pull it out of the fridge. It's nothing. It doesn't matter. It's not the last of their rations. It's not something he stuffed under his shirt and snuck past the register. He didn't risk anything for this. It's just a fucking cake. Calm down.]

[Jay offers Tim a paper plate.]

It's, uh... [Jay lifts a plastic cake server, one of the ones with a serrated edge for exactly this. For cutting cake. Birthday cake. God, this is uncomfortable.] Kinda melted. I mean--it's ice, ice cream cake, so I probably should've...

[Jay slides the server into the cake. It gives far too easily.]

Should probably taste the same.

[And with that, Jay's cut the first slice. Good job, Jay.]

You...want this one?