[By now Dixon's just so lost that it's almost physically painful; the banter's moving too fast for someone who's slow-witted on a day when they have all their bearings, much less one when half their brain's occupied by nicotine withdrawals and the other half is burned out from all the absolute nonsense it's been forced to accept as reality. He takes a moment and pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping the fact that he's completely adrift isn't as obvious to Cassie and Robbie as it feels.]

I haven't met any Tims yet. You know, what I think is maybe we should have someone do a round-up. Make sure we got a clear idea of who everyone is in case we lose anyone and in case someone unsavory tries to sneak their way in.

[It's like he's trying to volunteer an idea to make up for feeling stupid elsewhere, and, well, that's actually exactly what he's doing. But he still casts a wary glare at Cassie, as if somehow she's one of those people who might try and squirrel their way into the group with malicious intent.]