Tim watches Martin shut down in a very visceral way, in a way that he hasn't seen, but that he knows, because he's familiar with his own depression, with the haunting anxiety and misery of loss, the grief of loss and pretending that everything was fine. He lived with that for years after Danny.

"Don't do that," he says, quiet and understanding. He moves the marshmallows and gets closer to Martin, slinging an arm over his shoulders to haul him close.

"We can talk about Sasha and me and all that in a minute, yeah?"