When the glass breaks, Jay flinches, pulling his arms up to shield his face. He hears Tim rustle around for a bit more, the glass sliding and crumbling wherever he steps, and then Tim speaks again.

In response to the question, Jay reaches out slowly, tentatively, just in case there's still glass sticking out from the window frame. When he feels the thick layer of sheets, he relaxes a bit.

That lasts roughly half a second.

There's another noise at the door, a slam, as if someone threw their entire body against it, sending the frame rattling. Jay wastes no time scrambling onto the ledge, and in his haste to get out as quickly as possible, he tips forward at an odd angle, crashing into the bushes below.

The landing comes too quickly, Jay thinks, and as he wrestles his way out of the bushes and onto the grass, he realizes that distances make a bit more sense now. He's not crammed into as small a space, physically or mentally, though he can feel himself buzzing at the edges in a way that's probably not natural.

(Then again, it might be in his head. That's a thing he's had to deal with before, right?)

"You coming?" he calls in the general direction of the window.