Tim takes it upon himself, but doesn't offer to get Jon another one. He moves away from the table and over to the bar just so he can have a second to compose himself and process through the information, the knowledge. They're supposed to be talking about the Institute, anyway, and that means not talking about Deerington, because apparently that was easier.

It's all mangled up, like so many things get.

He gets himself fruity, and deeply alcoholic, and also a shot of tequila, and then a second shot of tequila, and says the put it on Jon's tab with a little gesture back at their table before he returns. When he sits again, he's a little less stormy about it.

"I don't want to talk about Sasha right now," he said, firm and flat.