ic inbox; entranceway

[postictal]

You've reached Tim. Leave a message.

( video | audio | text | whatever else )

Comments

[burntvideocassette]

yeah
the time you told me to come meet you in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night and attacked me
that time

[Sure, Tim might have had more of a right to give him a black eye than he'll ever have to complain about it, but he could have just not done that. They could have just talked, somewhere well-lit, maybe even somewhere public.]

she knew alex long before she knew either of us
and as far as i can remember you don't have a great track record at explaining things either

look if we both go you can keep me from saying something stupid

[And Jay can try and keep Tim from skipping over anything vitally fucking important. It all balances out, right?]

[postictal]

look me in the eye and tell me that if alex kralie hadn't told you the same you wouldn't have listened

[Maybe that's selling Jay short, but in Tim's experience, he's better off selling Jay short and being surprised when he expresses some fucking basic aptitude for the genre he's actually in.]

if you really think that's a good idea
i guess i don't have a say in it do i

[burntvideocassette]

i'm looking you in the eye right now
metaphorically

and i can't tell you that because i already did it once
not saying i'd do it AGAIN though
itd depend on the context

[If it's between meeting sketchy people who are pissed off at you in parking lots at night or losing your lead, the answer's obvious.]

[But that last bit. I guess I don't have a say in it, do I? Jay's never been the greatest at getting into people's heads; he can watch, and he can guess, and that's about it. Long way from Sherlock Holmes.]

[But he thinks he recognizes that feeling. It's watching himself getting dragged along by Alex, knowing there's something wrong but being unable to change course. It's scrambling for every scrap of information totheark can dole out, every line of cryptic bullshit buried in layers of more cryptic bullshit, and being unable to tell whether the words will ever fit together, if they ever meant anything in the first place. It's the feeling that somebody else has already handed you the script, that you just have to keep stuttering through take after take until the director hears what he wants.]

maybe we let max decide

[postictal]

i rest my case

[Does any of this even make sense with the context Max has? Jay wants to talk to her, and Tim wants to talk to her, and it's...what? A question of getting tag-teamed? Getting an intervention? It's his mistake, isn't it? It's his goddamn problem. It shouldn't be on her to figure out what comes next.]

[All this time and effort spent trying to get Jay to accept some goddamn accountability, and by the time it finally happens, this is what he's doing with it.]

fine
whatever
try and not make it weird when you ask her

[burntvideocassette]

can't guarantee that

[His eyebrow quirks up as he types, automatic, as if Tim would be able to see it through the screen.]

but i'll ask her

[postictal]

fine

[Can't guarantee that. At least he's honest about it.]

just tell me what she says

[burntvideocassette]

will do

[Jay's still getting used to being on this side of it. The closest he's ever gotten is with Jessica, and even then, he had a gaping hole in his memory. He didn't even get the chance to explain what little he did know.]

[But it'll work this time.]

[It'll be fine.]

[After all, he won't be doing it alone.]