The glass breaking was a new noise, recognizable among the others he heard and while his gut told him to go check, his body refused. He trusted Tim to yell if shit was hinkey. Raylan felt hinkey enough as it was, head swimming with flashes of the ravine and what it held there - The women jumping in, the feeling that he should have gone in after them and the conflict of instinct against compulsion.

Time meant nothing - Tim could have been gone five minutes or an hour and Raylan wouldn't have registered it, eyes glazed and lost off into nothingness until Tim was screaming his name like a madman. He jolted a little in his position on the floor, making his eyes all wide and wild again as he searched Tim's face for a hint as to what was wrong.

Tim was scared for him. Shit. Everything in Raylan screamed for him to fix it, but he didn't know how. He didn't know how to fix himself.

"It doesn't move. The ground," he answered lamely before pushing himself up to his feet and circling around the edge of the counter to slide the bottle in front of Tim. "I heard glass upstairs. What happened?"